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u 




THE COUNT'S LEAP. (See page 101.) 



FOT^ THILL RECREATIONS. 



THE 



TWO SICILIES; 



Slutflrts airir S 



OF THEIR 



SCEIs^ERY, CUSTOMS, HISTORY, PAINTERS, ETC. 



; BT 



M. a. SLEEPER, 



AUTUOB OF "The Mediterranean Islands," etc. 



"WITH IIiIiUSTBATIOK"S. 




BOSTON: 
GOULD AND LINCOLN, 

59 WASHINGTON STREET. 

NEW YORK: SHELDON AND COMPANY. 

CINCINNATI: GEO. S. BLANCHARD AND GO. 

186 7. 



Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1856, by 

GOULD AND LINCOLN, 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of Massachusetts. 



Stereotyped and Printed by 

J. E. Farwell and COMPANr, 

37 Congress St., Boston. 



5 tA ,*;>-' 



^0 
J^MIES QXJinS"Oir 33XX, 



IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED 



TSE AUTHOB. 



PREFACE. 



-*o>©<<>o- 




HE present volume is the second of a series which 
will describe some of those kingdoms, provinces, 
and countries least known to young American 
, readers, and will present pacts in such a manner 
as to interest and amuse, while -they instruct the mind and 
improve the heart. Upon its pages the author delineates 
the scenery of the kingdom of The Two Sicilies, with the 
character, customs, costumes, and occupations of its people, 
offers a portion of its history, and gives familiar sketches of 
some of its writers and painters. Although now merged — 
permanently as it is to be hoped — in the new kingdom of 
Italy, and therefore no longer exciting the imagination with 
the promise of an independent future, its past career fur- 
nishes materials for a narrative as romantic as it is varied. 

The information is conveyed in the form of easy conversa- 
tions between a traveller uncle, who lives at Fonthill, his 
pleasant country-seat, and a group of lively nephews anO 
nieces. The narrator is supposed to be a school-girl of 

(7) 



Vlll P K E F A C E . 

sixteen, who intersperses her report of these conversations 
with descriptions of the family recreations, the walks, drives, 
visits, guests, and plays; and also with the spicy stories 
told at various periods for the entertainment of the home- 
circle, either by its own members or by the visitors at the 
house. These stories, as they appear in this volume, and as 
they are prepared or planned for the succeeding orles, al- 
though they form a subordinate feature, take a wide range, 
and will, it is believed, be found both instructive and enter- 
taining. 

As at present arranged, the series will embrace the Medi- 
terranean Islands, The Two Sicilies, Holland and Belgium, 
Normandy, Brittany and La Vendee, Portugal, Denmark, 
Sweden and Norway, Germany, Poland, the old republics of 
Northern Italy, Hungary, and the islands scattered through 
the various oceans. 

Each volume will contain about three hundred pages, 
and will be complete in itself, although the principal charac- 
ters in the leading story which connects them will appear 
in all. 

The entire series will be embellished with illustrative 
engravings, and some of the volumes now in progress will 
contain valuable representations of foreign architecture, 
scenery, costumes, etc. 

M. G. S. 

October 6, 1866. 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER I. 



BACK AQAIN AT FOSTHILL — SPECKXEDWING AND HER FAMILT — MEETING BE- 
TWEEN POLL PAKKOT AND HEK OLD SHIPMATE — KATE'S TRIP TO THE WHITE 
MOUNTAINS — WHOM SHE FOUND THERE — HER UNHAPPINESS — CHANGE OP 
PROSPECTS — NIGHT OF DREAMS — RIDE TO FONTHILL — ACCIDENT TO THE 
ENGINE — TELLING STORIES — THE LITTLE TURKEYS AND THE CROSS GOOSE 
— BESSIE'S MISTAKE — THE STORY OF SPY, THE BROOM — MR. CLIFTON'S 
OPINION OF TOOLS— BESSIE'S STORY — THE LUNCHEON-BASKET — ARRIVAL 
OF THE NEW ENGINE — RECEPTION AT FONTHILL — DEPARTURE OF MR. AND 
MRS. CLIFTON FOR THE WEST, . . . . . . .15 



CHAPTER II. 



THE TOUNG PEOPLE COMMENCE THEIR STUDIES — KATE PROPOSES TO WRITE 
ANOTHER BOOK — EXTENT AND POSITION OF THE TWO SICILIES — THE 
ISLAND OF SICILY — SICILIAN HOUSES — SICILIAN DISHES — SICILIAN DANCES 

— SICILIAlf MUSIC — CHILDREN'S GAMES IN SICILY — SICILIAN MONKS — AP- 
PEARANCE AND MANNERS OF THE SICILIANS — SICILIAN CLIMATE AND DRESS 

— SICILIAIT SCHOOLS — MESSINA — A STOLEN MARRIAGE — THE SECRET 
LOVERS, ........... 36 



CHAPTER III. 



KATE AND THORNIE DIFFER IN OPINION RESPECTING THE POVERTY OF POETS — 
HOUSE OF THE EARL OP STIRLING — HOLLAND HOUSE — POPE'S VILLA AT 
TWICKENHAM — THE PRETENTIOUS MR. BENTHAM — LADY ANNE BARNARD'S 

(9) 



CONTENTS. 

HOUSE — EOGEKS'S HOUSE IN ST. JAMES'S PLACE — MOOEE'S COTTAGE NEAR 
DEVIZES — MISS BAILLIE'S HOUSE AT HAMPSTEAD — THOEOTE YIELDS FOR 
THE TIME — PALERMO — STEEETS OF PALEEMO'-THB TUiraY FISHEBY — 
THE 1NVASI0]!T OF SICILY BY HAjyilLKAE — GELO'S LUCKY STRATAGEM — 
DEFEAT OF THE CARTHAGINIANS — THE INVASION OF SICILY BY HANNIBAL — 
ASSAULT OF HIMEEA — TERRIBLE REVENGE OF HANNIBAL — THE EXILES 
OF GELA — THE BEAUTIFUL APPEAL OF TELINUS — ITS SUCCESS —POSITION 
OF SYRACUSE — ALPHEUS, THE RIVER-GOD, AND HIS BRIDE AEETHUSA, 



CHAPTER IV. 



AS EVENING ON THE VERANDA — PRINCE CREST — CREST'S NAUGHTINESS — 
SENT TO MADA3I STORK — THE -WONDERFUL WALL — CREST IN A PASSION — 
DESCRIPTION OF STORKLAND — CREST AT NIGHT — CREST'S BATH — CREST'S 
BREAKFAST — CREST'S REFLECTIONS — WHAT THE WALL WAS MADE OF — 
CREST RETURNS HOME — THE CONTINENTAL PORTION OF THE TWO SICILIES 
— LAST DAYS IN ROME — FONDl — THE PIRATE AND THE COUNTESS — INN 
ON THE BAY OF GAETA — NURSERY RHYME— ROAD TO NAPLES — DESCRIP- 
TION OF NAPLES — THE LAZZARONI— SOCIETY OF NAPLES — VIEW OF NA- 
PLES AND ITS SURROUNDINGS — MT. VESUVIUS — HERCULANEUM — POJIPEII 
—PUCK AND SNOWBALL, ........ 



CHAPTEK V. 



CHAPTER VI. 



THE CHERRY PARTY — KATE'S VERSES — FABLES ABOUT SICILY — THE STORM AT 
SEA — THE SHIPWRECKED SAILOR — KINDNESS OF THE SICILIANS — THE - 
COLES' RETURN TO CHALCI3 — PROPOSAL TO COLONIZE SICILY — CONSUl- 



54 



74 



THE HOLE IN THE TABLE-CLOTH- WOLF AND LIDA — THE BLACK KNIGHT — 
WOLF IN TROUBLE — THE RUNAWAY HORSE — THE LEAP FROM THE CLIFF — 
SORRENTO — TASSO THE POET — TASSO AT COURT — TASSO'S RETURN TO 
HIS SISTER- TASSO'S MISFORTUNES —CALABRIA — COSTUME OF THE CALA- 

BEIANS — CALABRIAN MUSIC — OCCUPATIONS OF THE PEASANT GIRLS 

HERDSMEN OF APULIA— SHEPHERDS' FESTIVAL — COSTUME OF THE AB- 
BUZZO — BESSIE AND THE SWING, ...... 96 



CONTENTS. XI 

TATIOir OF THE ORACLE — EEPLT OF XDE ORACLE — PREPARATIONS FOB 
'departure — THE TEMPLE SERVICE — THE DEPARTURE OF THE EMI- 
GRANTS — ARRIVAL IN SICILY — ALTAR ON MT. TAURUS — DIONTSIUS I. — 
DIONYSirS SEEKS A WIFE — THE DOUBLE MARRIAGE OF DIONTSIUS — GAMES . 

OP THE BOYS — CONQUEST OF REGGIO SICILY CONQUERED BY THE 

EOMANS — ARCHIMEDES — EUREKA — THE GOLD CROWTsT — EFFORTS OF 
ARCHIMEDES FOB THE DEFENCE OF SYRACUSE — THE MURDER OF ARCHI- 
MEDES—AFTER-FORTUNE OF SICILY — SOUTHERN ITALY" — -WICKED TRICK 
OF A GREEK COLONY — SYB^VRIS — SY"BARITES — SMINDYRIDES AND HIS 
WOOING — THE STOLEN BRIDE — DISAPPOINTMENT OF EUPHEMIUS — RE- 
VENGE OF EUPHEMIUS — CONQUEST OF SICILY BY THE SARACENS — THE 
LITTLE CHEISTIAlf AND THE GENEROUS SARACEN, .... Ill 



OHAPTEE VII. 



A EAINT EVENING— STORY OF THE FAIRY GIFT — TANCRED DE HAUTE VILLE — 
THE PARENTS OP OLDEN TIME — ROBERT GUISCAED — INVASION OF CAIA" 
BBIA — EOBEET'S raid — THE STONE STATUE — THE COUNT WHO WAS 
TURNED TO STONE — THE CHEST OF GOLD — THE DEAD SOLDIER RESTORED 
TO LIFE — ROBERT'S BROTHERS — THE SARACEN TEAITOK — INTASION OF 
SICILT — BOGEE'S COUETSHIP AND MAEEIAQB, .... 140 



CHAPTER VIII. 



CLOVEE AND ERINDLE — CRAP BLOOM — STRAWBEREYING — MAKING BIECH 
BASKETS — THE STRAWBERRY PASTURE — SPOT'S NAUGHTY TRICKS — SPOT 
SHUT UP — TEA ON THE VERANDA — FERDINAND UNITES THE TWO SICILIES 
TO SPAIN — WHO WEBB THE PEOPLE — RULE OF THE VICEEOYS — THE 
WOOING AND WEDDING OF AlfNA D'ACQUAVIVA — D'AQUINO DESIRES A ~ 
WIFE — HIS BARGAIN WITH THE VICEROY — ANNA A PRISONER — HEB 
EESCXJE — DONA tOEZIA'S ROLL DOWN THE GRAND STAIRWAY — ANNA IN 
THE CONVENT — ANNA'S LOVER- ANNA'S MARRLiGE — BEIGAIfDS — THE 
BOY WqO EEFUSED TO BETRAY HIS FATHER — PRINCE MAEZIO — THE 
PEINCE'S FLIGHT — CARLO JOIN'S HIS FATHER — CARLO'S LIFE EN THE MOUN- 
TAINS — CARLO CAPTURED —CARLO BEATEN— CARLO IN PRISON— CARLO 
DESTINED TO THE TORTURE — CARLO RESCUED — CARLO ESCAPES TO THE 
MOUN^TAINS — CARLO'S DEATH — PRINCE MAEZIO BECOMES AK ABBOT — 
QTSCSIPVION ON THE PBINCE'S TOMB, ...... 162 



Xll CONTENTS. 



OHAPTEE IX. 



WAITHTG OIT THE VEEAITDA — MAGGIE'S STOEY — THE OCEAN BATH — THE 
MEEMAID — THE MAEEIAGE — THE LITTLE EOSSI — EOMANO'S ANGEE — 
EOSSl'S MOTHEE DISAPPEARS — EOSSI ON THE SEASHOEE — EOSSI JUMPS 
INTO THE SEA — PUEF THE FEATHEE — THE BEOKEN FLO'^VEE-POT — MAS- 
ANIELLO — THE SMUGGLED FLOUE — THE FESTIVAL — THE FIGHT IN THE 
MAEKET-PLACE — THE MOB — MASANIELLO'S MUEDEE — MASANIELLO'S FU- 
NEEAL — EXCURSION TO BENEVENTUM^— MES. MEECEE'S STOEY — THE MEET- 
'iNG OP THE WITCHES — THE LITTLE ANDEEA — ANDEEA'S NUESE EOBEETA 
— EOBEETA LEAVES ANDEEA IN THE GEOVE — THE WITCHES PROPOSE TO 
TEY THEIEAETS UPON ANDEEA — ANDEEA'S LITTLE PEAYEE — FLIGHT OP 
THE WITCHES — SUSIE DAYTON, ....... 188 



CHAPTlfR X. 



THOENIE'S ARGUMENT — MILTON'S COTTAGE AT CHALFONT -— BURNS'S HOUSE 
AT DUMFRIES — EHYLLON — SOUTHEY'S HOUSE — CHAELES OP ANJOU — 
WAR OF THE SICILIAN VESPEES — FESTIVAL AT PALEEMO — MASSACRE OF 
THE FRENCH— CHARLES'S WRATH — THE FEMALE SENTINELS — PETER OF 
ARAGON — THE SUCCESSFUL STRATAGEM — PEEDEEIC OF AEAGON — BOC- 
CACCIO — CHICHIBIO AND THE CEANE — GIOTTO AND THE PIG — GIOTTO AND 
THE LAWYER- THE PAINTER SIMONE, ...... 203 



CHAPTER XI. 



SPECKLEDWING'S HOLIDAY SUIT — BESSIE'S PLAYS WITH SPECKLEDWING — 
MELANCHOLY DEATH OF SPECKLEDWING— ANTONIO THE SMITH— ANTONIO 
FALLS IN LOVE WITH VIOLETTA — ANTONIO BECOMES A PAINTER — AN- 
TONIO MAEEIES VIOLETTA — LOEENZO THE ENGEAVEE— THE FUNNY AR- 
REST— THE WAX MODEL — THE PAINTEE D 'AMATEICE AND HIS BEAUTIFUL 
WIFE — D' AMATEICE'S WIFE IN DANGEE — THE FEIGHTFUL LEAP — POL- 
IDORO AND HIS FRIENDS — TONNO THE PUPIL — MUEDEE OF POLIDOEO — 
TONNO'S PUNISHMENT — THE NEAPOLITAN MAIDEN — THE FATAL BLOW — 
SALVATOE EOSA — BEATEN BY THE MONKS — SALVATOE AND THE PEINCE 
— SALVATOE A POET — THE LITTLE GIOEDINO — THE PAINTED SHIRT — AT- 
TACK OF EIONERO — GIORDINO'S PETITION —REPULSE OF THE ENE3IY — 
GIORDINO'S HONORS— GIOEDINO ADOPTED BY THE DUKE — GIOEDINO'S 

SUCCESS, 220 



CONTENTS. Xlll 

CHAPTER XII. 

THB AMBITIOUS MOUSE— MISS MOUSE GETS INTO FIXE COMPANT — MISS MOUSE'S 
TKIALS — MISS MOUSE FALLS ILL — MISS MOUSE KETUKNS TO HEK ORIGINAL' 
ESTATE — CHARLES III. — THE SHOWER OF GOLD — CHARLES AND THE IN- 
QUISITION — QUEEN AMALIA — FERDINAND — ROYAL IGNORANCE — THE 
ROYAL SUTLER — THE ROYAL MIM'" — QUEEN CAROLINE'S CRUELTY — THE 
YOUTHFUL MARTYRS — EMANUELE AlXU HIS FATHER — EMANUELE'S MUR- 
DER— TOWZER AND THE WOODCHUCK, . . . . . . 243 



CHAPTER XIII. 



KATE'S CURIOSITIES —THE BOG — KATE'S CHASE — KATE IN THE BOG — PRINCE 
TRIES TO PULL KATE OUT — PRINCE AND UNCLE PAUL — .BEN RUNS TO THE 
BOG — KATE'S RESCUE — KATE'S ILLNESS — THE CUNNING TRICK — THE 
CHEATING PRIESTS — CRUELTY OF FERDINAND AND CAROLINE — THE ROYAL 
CONSPIRACY — THE FRIENDLY WARNING — THE DISCO VERY — THE WICKED 
AEEBST — THE BABY PRINCE— THE INN-KEEPER'S SON — FRENCH RULE IN 
ITALY —-DEATH OP CAROLINE — DEATH OF FERDINAND, ,. . . 256 



CHAPTER XIV. 



KATE'S ARGUMENT WITH THORNIE — MILTON'S HOUSE AT FOREST HILL — AE- 
BOTSFOED— NEWSTEAD ABBEY — SHELLEY'S HOUSE— JOSEPH GARIBALDI 

— RUNNING AWAY — SENTENCED TO DEATH — THE LUCKY DIVE — SAIL 
ON A DINNER-TABLE — THE LITTLE MINOTTI — RIDE IN A HANDKERCHIEF 

— DEATH OF MADAM GARIBALDI — G^VRIBALDl'S SUCCESS — VICTOR EMANUEL 

— THE TELEGRAM — THE LITTLE COUSINS — THE BIRTH-DAY FEAST — VISIT 
TO THE CHURCH — THE EARTHQUAKE — THE CHILDREN BURIED — RINGING 
THE BELL— SORROW OF THE PARENTS — DISCOVERY AND RESCUE OF :SHE 
CHILDREN- WHO WILL TELL A STORY ? — THR GRAY PARROT AND THE LOST 
PATH — BAY OF GAETA — LOST IN THE FOREST — THE GRAY PARROT- ES- 
CAPE FROM THE MARSH — CIANO'S ACCOMPLISHMENTS — FRANCESCO'S TRICK 

— THE duke's RAGE — ME. AND MRS. CLIFTON'S RETURN, . . . 273 



Cist of Illustrations. 



PAGE 

FKOXTisriECK — The Count's Leap. 

I. Initial Letter " N " — Country Girl Climbing a Fence, . . . .15 
II. The Unlucky Tumble, 18 

III. Initial Letter " T " — Uncle Paul, Kate, and ilaargie iu the Library, . 36 

IV. Stirling Castle, 55 

y. Holland House, . . . . . .' .^6 

VI. Pope's Villa at Twickenham, ......... 67 

VII. Lady Anne Barnard's House, . . . . . . . . . .68 

VIII. Rogers's House in St. James's Place, ....... 69 

IX. Moore's Cottage near Devizes, ........ .60 

X. Miss Baillie's House at Hampstead, 61 

XI. Madam Stork in Cap and Spectacles, 81 

XII. Initial Letter " T " — The Poet Tasso writing in Prison, . . . 103 

XIII. Doris Crossing to Syracuse, 126 

' XIV. Initial Letter "T" — TancredDeHauteville, 140 

XV. Crap Bloom's Wicker Baskets, ......... 163 

XVI. Crap Bloom's Wicker Bird-cages, . . ■ . ... . . • 163 

XVII. Milton's Cottage at Chalfont, . . ' 203 

XVIII. Bums's House at Dumfries, 204 

XIX. Rhyllon, Mrs. Hemans's Home in Wales, 203 

XX. Southey's House, . 206 

XXI. Crane, 213 

XXII. Village of Rionero, 238 

XXIII. Miss Mouse in her Court Dress, • • .244 

XXIV. Milton's House at Forest Hill, 273 

XXV. Shelley's House, 274 

XXVI. Abbotsford, the Home of Walter Scott, . 275 

XXVII. Newstead Abbey, the Hpme of Lord Byron, . . . * . .276 
XXVIII. Travelling by Rail, 300 



• The Two Sicilies. 



iS-j-*-*— 



CHAPTER I. 




BACK AGAIN AT FONTHILL — SPECKXED'WING AND HEK FAMILY — MEETINa BETWEEN 
POLL PAEEOX AND HER OLD SHIPMATE — KATE'S TEIP TO THE AVHITE MOUN^ 
TAINS — WHOM SHE FOUND THERE — HEE DNHAPPINESS — CHANGE OF PEOSPECTS 

— NIGHT OF DEEAMS — EIDE TO FONTHILL — ACCIDENT TO THE ENGINE — 
TELLING STOEIES — THE LITTLE TUEKEYS AND THE CEOSS GOOSE — BESSIE'S 
MISTAKE — THE STOEY OF SPY, THE BEOOM — ME. CLIFTON'S OPINION OF TOOLS 

— BESSIE'S STOEY — THE LUNCHEON-BASKET — AEEIVAL OF THE NEW ENGINE 

— RECEPTION AT FONTHILL — DEPABTUEE OP ME. AND MRS. CLIFTON FOE THE 
WEST. 



more travelling for three months ; so 
Uncle Paul says, and I am glad of it. 
To be sure, I like to see new people 
and new things, but just now no place 
appears to me as pleasant as dear, delightful 
Fonthill. 

Speckledwing has a whole brood of chickens ; 
positively nine, for I counted them this morning. 
Three of them are white, two are black, and the 
rest are spotted. Speck, is as proud as proud can 
be of them, and I do not wonder, for they really, 
make a fine family. 

Mrs. Sharp has told me something pleasant 

15 



16 THE TWO SICILIES. 

about Poll parrot ; something which happeoed 
while I was away. The day that I left, her cage 
was hung in a tree, and she suddenly began to 
shout, "Long yarn! Long yarn! ha! ha! ha I 
How d' ye do ? Shake hands ! '^ offering her foot 
for the ceremony. " Don't be cross! Comical old 
fellow ! Want a cracker, shipmate ? What a 
lurch ! Wind blows great guns ! Ha ! ha ! ha ! '' 

Mrs. Sharp happened to be on the veranda at 
the time and was very much astonished. Some of 
the words she had never heard Poll say before ; 
and she looked round to see what was going on. 
Presently a handsome, merry-faced sailor bowed to 
her, and said, — 

'' Poll and I are old shipmates, madam ; and 
learning that she was here, I took the liberty to 
make her a call.'' 

" You're welcome, I'm sure," answered Mrs. 
Sharp. '' Won't you walk into the house, and see 
the family, Mr. " 

" Grafton, Captain Grafton," returned the stran- 
ger. " The sailors, my shipmates, used to call me 
Longyarn, because I told such long and wonderful 
stories in the hot weather when we were becalmed 
at sea : but my real name is Grafton." 

" They were glad enough to hear the stories, I'll 
be bound. Captain," said Mrs. Sharp. " If our 
young folks were here, — the ones that went away 
this very morning, — they'd want to hear some too. 
They're the greatest hands for stories, and Mr. 
Heywood — that's the gentleman that lives here — 



BACK AGAIN AT FONTHILL, Vl 

would keep 'em still three hours on a stretch, tell- 
ing 'em about his travels, and what he saw and 
beard." 

" I am sorry they have gone, madam," replied 
the sailor. " When I am off the sea I want a good 
time ; and I like young people, they are so free 
and easy. They don't look one over to see if there 
is a button too few or too many, or make fun if 
one's manners are not as fine as landsmen's ways." 

" I'm sorry, too," replied Mrs. Sharp. " I shall 
miss 'em more than I can tell. But come in. Cap- 
tain, I'm sure Mr. Heywood will give you a wel- 
come." 

So Captain Grafton came in ; and Uncle liked 
him so much that he invited him to dinner, and 
made him promise to visit Fonthill as soon as his 
next voyage is over. I hope I shall be here when 
he comes. Won't I coax him into telling his best 
stories ! 

I believe nothing else of any particular conse- 
quence happened while I was gone ; so now I 
will write about my journey. We — that is, my 
cousins, Claude and Gerald Lynwood and I — 
started at four o'clock on the morning of the first 
of July, from Fonthill for the White Mountains. 
We were as " gay as larks," as people say, though 
I don't really know how gay that is. At any rate, 
we were very merry ; and instead of looking at the 
scenery, as I suppose we ought to have done, we 
ate the nice luncheon which Mrs. Sharp, aunt's 
housekeeper, had put up for us, and bought hard, 
2 



18 



THE TWO SICILIES. 



sour apples, and got out at the stopping places, 
and scrambled back in a fright for fear we should 
be too late ; but I think we did not talk or laugh 
loudly, for we were never permitted to do that in 
a railway car. At last we took out our pencils 
and paper and tried our hand at drawing comic 
pictures. None of them were worth keeping ex- 
cept Thornie's, which represented a Swiss market- 
girl, falling into one of her own panniers. We 
named it " The Unlucky Tumble. '^ 

We were very happy 
when we arrived at the 
''Notch,'' for Claude 
and Gerald found their 
parents, and I found 
not only my father and 
mother, but my brother 
Thornie, and my sis- 
ters Maggie and Bessie. 
Everybody had a word 
to hear and to tell, but 
we children had much 
the best of it in the 
telling, for we kept up 
such a complete hubbub, that our elders were glad 
to be quiet and not add to the noise. - 

I was as gay as the rest until I went to my 
chamber, but just as I was undressing, mother 
came in and said that father and she were to go 
West in a few days, to be gone two or three 
months. Now, I had been up ever since four 




THE UNLUCKY TUMBLE. 



KATE'S UNJIAPPIIf^ESS. 19 

o'clock in the morning- and was thoroughly tired 
out. 1 suppose people cannot bear ill news well 
when they are tired; at any rate, when I thought 
of being shut up in town with Miss Simpson, the 
governess, I fairly broke down and began to cry. 
To be sure. Miss Simpson is a nice person, and I 
ought to have loved her. Sometimes I thought I 
did, but I am afraid I didnH, for she was not what 
I call restful. She was so conscientious that she 
never could decide that we children ought to have 
a holiday until it was half over, and she crowded 
our lessons afterward because we had had one. 
Now, life seems very long to me as I lobk away to 
the warm summers and merry winters to come ; and 
I cannot help thinking that there will be plenty of 
time for French, and Italian, and music, and the 
other studies, without such a constant digging as 
she wanted to keep up. Then she worried ; that 
was still worse. Oh, dear, dear, how sure she 
was that if we stepped out of doors we should 
take cold, or get tanned, or be run over, or be 
naughty, or that something would happen ; and I 
really felt tempted a great many times to do a 
wicked thing that something might happen in- 
deed. 

Mother saw that I was crying, and she stroked 
my hair softly, and asked, " What is my darling 
sorry about?" And then I told her that I could 
not bear the thought of being shut up in the great, 
lonesome town-house with Miss Simpson. 

" Why, my love/' answered mother, " I did not 



20 THE TWO SICILIES. 

think of such a thing. I could not enjoy my sight- 
seeing abroad if I were not sure that my young 
people were happy at home ; and your father has 
just written to your Uncle Paul to ask if he will 
keep you all while we are away/^ 

" What, all of'us I '' I exclaimed. '' Thornton, 
and Maggie, and Bessie, and I ! '^ 

'' All of you. He will be sure to say ' yes,' but 
it was polite to consult him and Aunt Mary before 
we actually fill the house.'' 

''Oh, thank you, mother I And shall we go 
back to Boston before we go to Fonthill ? I do 
so want to carry something to Mrs. Sharp, and 
Ben, and Joseph." 

Mother thought we should not go to Boston, but 
promised to send some presents for the family, 
witli our clothes. So I was comforted, and washed 
away my tears ; but all night long I mixed up 
Fonthill, and Iowa, and my little book that I was 
keeping to surprise the family with on the morrow, 
in the oddest way imaginable. Sometimes the 
book was Uncle Paul, sometimes it was Aunt 
Mary, and then it would turn into a basket of 
eggs, or my favorite hen Speckledwing, or Prince 
Albert, the cock. 

Uncle Paul wrote a kind reply to father's re- 
quest, and Aunt Mary added a postscript, saying 
that she was " delighted to know that the house 
•would be cheerful all the autumn." As soon as 
uncle's letter reached us, we set out for Fonthill. 
It was very hot, and the moment a window was 



TELLING STORIES. 21 

raised the dust came into the cars in clouds. At 
eleven o'clock in the forenoon, the machinery gave 
out, and we were, three hours in the blazing sun. 
There was no house near, and not a tree or fence 
for shade ; nothing, indeed, but a great, parched 
plain, bearing a little withered sweet fern. We, 
the children, got up and sat down, walked out of 
the car and in again, asked the time once in fifteen 
minutes, gaped, stretched, but did not go to sleep> 
We should have tired mother out, but that she 
luckily advised us to keep quiet and tell &tories. 

'' Don't go to tell great, grown-up stories,'^ said 
Bessie, ''and please don't go to tell moral stories, 
either. My fable-book is beautiful, all but the 
morals, and I don't like the morals at all/^ 

" We will make a rule that the stories shall not 
be grown-up stories, and that they shall be pretty, 
whether they have a moral or not,'' replied 
mother. 

'' May they all begin with ' Once upon a time' ? " 
asked Maggie, laughing. 

'' Yes, if you wish. Who will tell the first 
one ? " 

'' Mother must. Yes, mother, certainly," said 
we ; and so mother began about 

THE LITTLE TURKEYS A:ND THE CROSS GOOSE. 

''I can 'stand that," said Bessie. 

'' Yes, I think you will understand every word," 
replied mother. " Once a family of turkeys lived 
on a beautiful farm by the Olive river. The papa 



22 THE TWO SICILIES. 

and mamma turkeys lived there, and nine little 
turkeys beside. There had been no rain for many 
days, and the grasshoppers were so thick in the 
meadows that when one stepped into them, -hop, 
hop, went hundreds of nimble legs, and he was 
quite covered with them. When the little turkeys 
found out how abundant the grasshoppers were, 
they wanted some so much that their very mouths 
watered ; and they asked their mamma if they 
might go and catch some. 

" ' Let me see,' said mamma. ' The grass is all 
cut and dried, and put in the barn, so that you 
can't hurt that, and I don't know of any other 
mischief you can do. Yes, my dears, you may 
go, and I will join you when I have put things to 
rights at home.' 

'' The little ones set out, chatting, and laughing, 
and thinking what a good time they would have, 
when, just as they reached the hole in the wall 
through which they meant to get to the meadows, 
a goose ran toward them, stretching out her long 
neck, and hissing fearfully. - They didn't stop a 
moment to ask why she was so uncivil, much less 
did they venture through the hole while her beak 
was pointed toward it like a murderous cannon ; 
but they ran away, crying with fear. Unluckily, 
they couldn't get back to their mamma, for the 
high gate of the barn-yard was shut, and they 
could neither climb over nor creep under it. They 
hoped the goose would go away, but she scarcely 
stirred from her post all the afternoon ; and, with 



THE LITTLE TURKEYS AND THE CROSS GOOSE. 23 

her goslings, kept nibbling at some dirty weeds 
across the road. Two or three tinaes the silly little 
turkeys moved softly toward the hole, thinking 
to reach it without being seen ; but each time the 
goose ran at thfem so fiercely that they crowded 
close together, and made off in a body. 

" It was nearly night before the gate was 
opened.- As they ran into the yard, their mamma 
met them, and said, ' Welcome, my darlings. You 
have had a fine time, I dare say. I longed to get 
out and chase the grasshoppers with you, but the 
gardener fastened the gate before I could leave the 
house.' 

" ' No, indeed, dear mamma, you are really very 
much mistaken,' cried the little ones, in a breath. 
' We have had no fun at all, nor as much as a single 
grasshopper. We have been penned up in the 
wood-yard the whole of this lovely afternoon by a 
hateful old goose.' 

<< t Why, how came that about ? ' 

'' ' The ugly thing hissed at us, mamma, and 
stretched out her long neck and ran at us every 
time we tried to get through the hole.' 

" ' And what if she did ? Were you obliged to 
mind her ? ' 

''^Why, we thought she would bite us every 
minute, or beat us with her heavy wings.' 

*' ' Did she actually do it ? ' 

" ' Oh, no, mamma, we gave her no chance, for 
the very minute she began to turn round, we ran 
as fast as we could.' 



24 THE TWO SICILIES, 

" 'I am sorry that you missed your expected 
pleasure/ said the mamma turkey, ' but I hope it 
will teach you that there are many apparent dan- 
gers which are really no dangers at all. Whenever 
you have decided to do a thing, go straight for- 
ward, and there are ten chances to one that the 
way will not prove as hard as it looks. Even if it 
should be, it would be of no^use to skulk and hide. 
Think of that.^ 

^'The next day was warm and bright, and the 
old turkey sent her brood again to the meadows. 
They hung back at first, and begged her to go with 
them ; but she was resolute, and they started with- 
out her. ^Eemember what I have told you,' she 
said, ' and mind that you don't turn back for any- 
thing but the master's orders.' 

" ' Oh ! oh ! I am so afraid ! ' exclaimed Gray tail. 

'''And so ami,' said Redtop. 'I tremble all 
over.' 

" ' Mamma knows more about it than we do, an^ 
she wouldn't have sent us if there were any 
danger,' said Spottedbreast, who, having broken 
his shell three or four hours earlier than his broth- 
ers and sisters, plumed himself upon his age and 
experience. 

" ' Spot is as much afraid as any of us, only he 
wants to appear brave,' said Yellowfoot. 

" By this time they had arrived at the hole. 
The goose was there, and she hissed and ran at 
them just as she had done the day before ; but, 
although their little hearts beat so hard that she 



BESSIE'S MISTAKE. 25 

must have seen their feathers shake, they kept 
straight on, and didn't once look at her. They 
had a charming time in the field, and ate as many 
grasshoppers as they liked. Their pleasure would 
have been perfect if they could have carried some 
to their dear mamma. They returned home just as 
the sun was setting, and they had grown so brave 
that they even turned upon the goose when they 
were fairly through the fence. They flocked into 
the yard in the highest spirits, and declared that 
they would never again be afraid of anything, — 
at least until they had found by actual trial that it 
was something to be afraid of.'' 

''Oh, mother!" exclaimed Bessie, her lips 
quivering, and the tears filling her eyes. ''Oh, 
mother ! you told that story because I was afraid 
of the dog yesterday." 

" You are mistaken, my darling," replied mother, 
gently. "I had entirely forgotten that you did 
not like" Tiger's bow-wow ; but as I have told it, 
perhaps it will be well for you to remember it." 

"I like those little turkeys, mother," said 
Maggie, " and I sympathize with them, too ; for I 
am just the least in the world afraid of geese. 
They put me in mind of snakes, with their long, 
slender necks, and their disagreeable hissing." 

" I shouldn't think you need be afraid of either," 
said Thornie, bursting into a laugh. " You can 
beat them in a race two to one. Oh, mother, you 
should have seen Maggie run away from a striped 
snake yesterday ! Oh, but she was fast ! " 



26 THE TWO SICILIES. 

" Take care, Thornie," returned Maggie, good- 
naturedly, " or I will tell '^ 

''Let us have another story," said mother. 
*' Father, it is your turn.'^ 

" All ready, '^ answered father ; *' my story shall 
be about 

" SPY, THE BROOM. 

" In the back room of a shop in the town of 
Dryenfels, in Bavaria, stood a broom of split bark. 
It had been there nobody knows how long, for one 
customer thought it too light, another said it was 
too short, and a third declared that the daubs of 
paint on the handle reminded him of a flying 
dragon. At length a poor widow asked its price, 
and the owner, tired of seeing it, sold it to her 
much cheaper than he had offered it before. 

'' The broom had listened to the bargain with 
great anxiety, and when it was concluded, she 
burst into tears, exclaiming, / Have I, then waited 
so long for a purchaser only to find myself doomed 
to a miserable old cabin at last ! ' 

" ' Hush, my child,' replied another broom near 
by. ' Our happiness does not depend upon the 
place in which we live, but upon the manner in 
which we live. Beside, there are many peasant 
cottages where one can be more merry than in the 
palaces of kings.' 

" ' I will do my best,' answered the first broom, 
wiping her e^^es. ' I will certainly do my best, 
and if I fail, it shall not be for want of trying.' 



SPY, THE BROOM. 27 

'' The little broom was as good as her word. 
She went cheerfully with her new mistress, and 
never was broom more industrious than she was. 
Every night she renewed the tips of bark which 
had worn off or been broken during the day ; and 
when- at work, she never left a crack or corner 
until it was thoroughly clean. 

'' She was beginning to grow old, although no 
one would have suspected it, she kept herself 
looking so trimly, when Mrs. Eckart, the wife of a 
rich farmer, called at the cottage. ' ^Tis truly 
wonderful, Mrs. Brennan,' said she, looking 
around, ' that you can contrive to keep this poor 
place so bright and neat. ^Tis a real pleasure to 
sit down' by your fire ;^ and she settled herself 
comfortably in her chair for a cosey talk. 

" 'You must not give me all the praise,' replied 
Mrs. Brennan. ' You must also praise my broom. 
Such a treasure you never saw. She can't endure 
a speck of -dust. You ought to see her digging 
about the tumble-down walls and broken hearth. 
I call her Spy, she sees so far and so quickly.' 

" ' If you will sell her to me,' said Mrs. Eckart, 
' I will give you ten times as much as you paid 
for her when she was new.' 

'' ' I don't like to part with her,' said Mrs. 
Brennan, ' but with the sum you offer I can get 
my leaky roof mended, and buy some lights for 
my broken window. Yes, you may take her.' 

" So Spy went to the farm. She was sorry to 
leave the mistress who had handled her so gently, 



28 THE TWO SICILIES. 

and had praised her so warmly. ' But, then/ she 
kept saying to herself, ' it is such a rise/ 

" She had been in her new place about three 
months, when, one stormy evening. Count von 
Berlach, who had lost his way and got dripping 
wet in the shower, begged leave to stay all-night. 
Nothing could well have delighted Mrs. Eckart 
more, for she thought it would be a fine thing to 
tell her neighbors that she had actually lodged a 
lord. The Count was delighted, also. He looked 
with interest at the great stove which occupied 
half one side of the room, and which was as clean 
as hands could make it. Then he glanced along 
the shelves which took up the most of two more 
sides, and where the copper and brass cooking- 
vessels shone in the lamplight, and the cups, and 
saucers, and plates, and tumblers, stood in straight 
rows as if they were placed with a rule. Finally, 
his eye rested on the unpainted, oaken floor, which 
was washed daily, and which looked almost too 
nice to step on. The extreme cleanliness of every- 
thing gave him pleasure, and he complimented his 
hostess in the kindest manner. 

" ' It is trim and tidy here, I own,' replied Mrs. 
Eckart. ' I and my maids do a good deal of 
scrubbing, but after all we couldn't get on as well 
as we do but for my broom. Spy. She keeps the 
floor brushed so nicely that she saves half the 
mopping and scouring.' 

" 'Ah,' replied the Count, 'pray show her to 
me. Without doubt, she is just such a one as my 



SPY, THE BROOM. 29 

little daughter wants for her baby-house. She was 
complaining only yesterday that she couldn't keep 
it properly dusted.' 

'* So Mrs. Eckart brought out Spy, and she 
looked so fresh and modest, and had such a good 
reputation, that the Count bought her of his 
hostess for double the sum she had paid for her. 

" 'I shall miss her, certainly,' said Mrs. Eckart 
to herself, * but 'tis such a good price ! " 

" ' I shall miss this cheerful kitchen, and the 
gay men and maids,' said Spy, ' but 'tis such a 
rise ! " 

"'There, Maria,' said the Count, tossing Spy 
toward a little girl who ran into the courtyard to 
receive him ; ' there, Maria, I have brought you a 
present. 'Tis a brocfm, and her name is Spy. The 
farmer's wife who sold her to me says she will 
clear all before her.' 

'' ' Oh, thank you, thank you, father, a thousand 
times,' returned the pretty child, clapping her 
hands. ' It is just what I want for my baby-house. 
I only hope the woman did not deceive you.' 

'' ' Try Spy,' said her father, laughingly. ' Try 
her, and if she doesn't suit you, you shall your- 
self carry her back to the farm-house.' 
- '' Maria and Spy became fast friends imme- 
diately. The latter, indeed, had many tempta- 
tions to linger among the pictures and books, and 
sometimes she felt sorry to go into her dark closet. 
But when this was the case, she had only to 
remember that she owed all these pleasures to her 



30 THE TWO SICILIES. 

good behavior, and this made her willing to 
obey. 

''About six months after this change, Maria 
went to a grand exhibition of paintings, and the 
little Bavarian princesses happening to go also, 
they took such a fancy to her that they begged 
their mother to permit her to visit them. So 
Maria went to the palace and told her new friends 
about her rabbits, and doves, and dog, and lastly 
about her baby-house and her wonderful broom. 
In return, the princesses showed her all their 
treasures, and they had a delightful time together. 
As she was leaving, the Princess Therese said, 
' The only thing you have told us of, that I should 
like, is that cunning broom of yours. Only to 
think that I never touched one in" my life. I should 
enjoy having one so much, for then I could make 
belief be a merchant's daughter, and I would keep 
house and do the work just as they often do.' 

" ' You shall certainly have Spy,' answered 
Maria, ' for I don't doubt that father can get me 
just such another ; and if he can't, I am so used 
to sweeping now that a common broom will answer 
quite as well.' 

*' So the next day Spy was thoroughly washed 
and trimmed, — for princesses must have every- 
thing in the very nicest order, — and then she was 
wrapped in great sheets of silver paper, and given 
to a servant to carry to the palace. There she 
found a much finer baby-house than the one she 
left, and so many toys that it was a long time 



SPY, THE BROOM, 31 

before, she had even glanced at all of them. In 
truth, I doubt if she ever did so, for a singular 
event bef(?ll her, 

'' One day King Maximilian was asleep beneath 
a tree in the garden of the palace, when an en- 
raged wolf, which had broken loose from the 
menagerie attached to it, ran furiously toward 
him. His eyes were fiery with anger, and he 
snapped at everything in his way. Prince Eugene 
was at that moment in his sister's play-room, hold- 
ing Spy in his hand, and listening to a long account 
of her good conduct. The noise made by the 
dreadful animal startled him, and looking through 
the great windows which opened to the floor, he 
saw the king's danger. Like the faithful boy that 
he was^ he sprang to the portico, rushed into the 
gravelled walk in front of the wild beast, and 
whirled and brandished Spy in his very face. This 
frightened the wolf so that he turned aside just as 
he reached the sleeper, who awoke with a start. 

" ^ What an escape ! ' exclaimed the king, after 
having been told four or five times over just how it 
all happened, ' Let me see the broom with which 
you have accomplished such wonders, my son ! ' 

'' 'Here it is, father,^ said Eugene, handing him 
Spy. ' It is Therese's pet toy at this moment, but 
I think it ought to be put away and to be kept 
safely in memory of to-day.' 

'' * So it ought, my boy,' replied the king, * and 
I will tell you what I will do. I will have the 
handle made into a cane, and we will put it in 
the picture gallery.' 



32 THE TWO SICILIES. 

'' Very soon the once bumble and despised Spy 
was made into an elegant souvenir. She had a 
silver foot and a gold head, and the hea(i was set 
round with diamonds like a crown, and was en- 
graved- with a picture of the king asleep in the 
garden, and the wolf flying down the gravelled 
walk, and the little boy brandishing a broom. 
Then she was placed in a grand room where she 
did not even sweep baby-houses, but merely stood 
to be stared at by fine people who cared nothiug 
about her except to say that they had seen the 
famous broom-handle in King Maximilian's gal- 
. lery. She liked it pretty well at first, but she 
soon grew tired of her idle state, and her very 
heart wept for good Mrs. Brennan, who always 
smiled when she saw her, and who took such 
hearty pleasure in her work about the poor little 
cottage. ' Oh, dear, dear,' she often exclaimed, 
' how foolish and ignorant I was, not to know that 
one grain of true "affection outweighs all the splen- 
dor in the world I ' 

''Ah, dear children, it is love that makes sun- 
shine, and not money, or fine houses, or even 
admiration and praise." 

"I wish, my dear, that you could get a mate to 
Spy, for Kate,'' said mother. " It is the fault of 
her broom, I suppose, that the corners of her 
chamber are not always clean." 

" Mother is a magician," cried Maggie, " a real 
magician. No matter how poor a broom may be 
in the hands of the chambermaid, the moment 



BESSIE'S STORY. 33 

mother takes it it has such a quick, light touch that 
t it gives one pleasure to see it move ; and the roses 
f and leaves and stems come out on the carpet almost 
as fresh and bright as if they were just woven/' 

'' Yes/' said father, " when people complain of 
their tools, I say to myself, ' It is the workman 
who makes the tools, not the tools which make the 
workman.' " 

*' Now let me tell a story, please," said Bessie. 
" Yes, indeed, we should all like to hear Bessie's 
story. What is it to be about, daughter ? " asked 
mother. 
''About 

BESSIE CLIFTON," 

replied the child. " Once there was a little girl, 
and her name was Bessie Clifton, and she was 
going to be five pretty soon. And she had a father 
and mother. And her father had black eyes and 
her mother had blue eyes, more, beautifuller than 
anything. No, not beautifuller than her father's, 
but more beautifuller than anything else. And 
she had a sister Kate, and she was sixteen. And 
she had a brother Thornie, and he was fifteen. 
And she had a sister Maggie, and she was fourteen. 
And they was all ridin' in the cars, and the cars 
broke down, and it was so warm, you can't think. 
And they was so warm, and they told stories. 
And Bessie was so warm, and so hungry, and — 
and — I don't know no more." 

'' Shall I finish the story ? " asked mother. 

'' Oh, yes, please do," said Bessie. 
3' 



34 THE TWO SICILIES. 

" Bessie's mother pitied her dear little daughter, 
and she said that Thornie might take out the 
luncheon basket and that Bessie might open it. 
And Thornie did take out the basket, and Bessie 
did open it, and she saw apple-tarts, and sponge 
cake, and pieces of cold chicken, and many hand- 
some curls of dried beef, and a bottle of sweet 
milk, and a dozen oranges/' 

^' Oh, mother, what a beautiful finish!'' ex- 
claimed Bessie ; and her dear, tired eyes bright- 
ened as Thornie really took the basket from under 
the seat, and she looked in and found all the 
^things that mother had named. 

We ate our luncheon slowly, and made ourselves 
as gay as we could over it. Just as we had fin- 
ished, we heard a far-away whistle, which grew 
louder and louder, and then our engine gave a 
frightful shriek for answer. In ten minutes more 
the new engine had drawn ours away to the next 
station, where it sent it trundling down a side 
track. This done, it returned for us. Oh, how 
glad we all were I 

We did not reach Fonthill until midnight, but 
uncle was waiting with the carriage at the depot, 
and aunt was waiting for us in the veranda, and 
Mrs. Sharp had the nicest of suppers ready. Dear 
uncle and aunt ! how good it was of them to be so 
glad to see us. Then, Mrs. Sharp did not appear 
to think of the extra work we should make for her, 
but hugged Bessie as if she 'had been her own 
child, and laughed as if our coming was the 



RECEPTION^ AT FONTHILL. 35 

nicest thing- in the world. Clementina, — Tina we 
used to call her for convenience, — the maid of all , 
work, Sarah the waiter, Ben the gardener, and 
Joseph the colored coachman, looked happy too. 
It is the fashion of the house to be happy when 
guests appear, and a beautiful fashion it is, and 
always will be. 

I do not like to think about the next morning, 
for father and mother went away. Bessie cried 
herself nearly ill, and Thornie ran off and did not 
return until dinner-time ; but aunt kept Maggie 
and me so busy in unpacking the trunks, filling the 
flower vases, and hulling the strawberries foi" 
dessert, that we had no time to think of anything 
but our work. We had a charming drive in the 
evening, and the next day we — the children — 
settled quietly to our studies, with uncle and aunt 
for teachers. 



CHAPTER II. 



THE TOUNG PEOPLE COMMEKCE THEIR STUDIES — KATE PEOPOSES TO WRITB 
ANOTHER BOOK — EXTENT AND POSITION OF THE TWO SICILIES — THE ISLAND 
OF SICILY — SICILIAN HOUSES — SICILIAN DISHES — SICILIAN DANCES — SICILIAN 
MUSIC"— children's GAMES IN SICILY — SICILIAN MONKS — APPEARANCE AND 
MANNERS OF THE SICILIANS — SICILIAN CLIMATE AND DRESS — SICILIAN SCHOOLS 
— MESSINA— A STOLEN MARRIAGE— THE SECRET LOTBRS. 




HE classes were ar- 
ranged and the hours 
for drawing and music 
were decided upon, 
and then I told uncle 
that father and mother 
were delighted with 
the little book which 
I wrote during my last 
visit, and that they 
said I must write an- 
other for my gift to 
them on their return from the West, Uncle was 
pleased, and replied that as there was no work 
for young people on the kingdom of the Two Sici- 
lies,, he would tell us about it, and I might 
write out what I could remember. " Perhaps we 
had better begin now,'^ said he. *'If you like, 

36 



EXTENT OF THE TWO SICILIES. 31 

you may call your aunt, and give Bessie an invita- 
tion. She must not fancy that she is overlooked 
because she is so small/ ^ 

In a few minutes aunt appeared with her knit- 
ting and Bessie with hex darling kitten, — a gift 
from Mrs. Sharp, and which she called Snowball. 
Oh, how pleasant it was I The sunshine crept in 
through the honeysuckles* which climbed to the 
roof of the veranda, and danced merrily on the 
roses and lilies of the carpet. Poll parrot, sitting 
in a mountain ash, called, ''Spot I Spot I ^^ and 
when Spot woke from his comfortable nap in the 
shadow of an apple-tree, and walked unwillingly 
toward the house, she shouted, "Naughty dog! 
go away I go away I '^ following the order with a 
delighted, "Ha! ha!'' 

Uncle began the lesson by speaking of the 
extent and position of 



ti 



THE KINGDOM OF THE TWO SICILIES. 



" It consisted," said he, " of the islands of 
Sicily, Ischia, Procida, and Capri, the Ponza 
group off the Bay of Gaeta, and that part of Italy 
which lies south of a line beginning on the Adri- 
atic at the northern shore of the river Tronto, and 
ending on the Mediterranean about two miles east 
of Terracina. Get out the maps, children, and 
find the outlines of this kingdom, that you may 
know what we are talking about.'' 

After we had each taken a look, uncle went on. 



38 tee two sicilies. 

'' Sicily 

is the largest and finest island in the 'Mediterra- 
nean. When I looked at it from the sea, it ap- 
peared to be merely a collection of jagged rockd^ 
and I could scarcely believe that there were any 
rich valleys among them. I soon found that I was 
mistaken ; for, although there are no pleasant 
meadows such as we find in this country, with fat 
cattle quietly grazing on the green grass, there is, 
nevertheless, an abundance of beautiful vegetation^ 
The vineyards are numerous and well cared for,, 
and the grapes are finer than any that I tasted in 
France. In looking over a landscape, one sees, 
instead of our noble oaks and elms, etc., pepper- 
trees, cork oaks, with the bark of which we stop 
our bottles, the soft gray of the olive, the rich 
green of the lemon, orange, and fig-trees, the 
blue-green of the castor-oil plant, the light tint of 
the almond, and the glossy foliage of the sweet- 
scented myrtle. Among the slight stems of wheat 
grows the purple gladiolus, followed by the bright- 
eyed lupine. The white gumcistus blossoms at the 
beginning of summer, and is followed by the 
orange, lily, and the fragrant clematis. Eoses of 
many hues abound. Gigantic oleanders make 
hedges with the spiny leaves of the aloe, which 
look as if carved by a sculptor. The bell-shaped 
blossoms of the yellow broom open in company 
with the buds of the spreading heath, and the 
saffron shows its golden heads against the tall 



SICILIAN HOUSES, 39 

maize and tender flax. Rice, cotton, and the 
liquorice plant grow in some parts of the island. 
The water lily spreads its snow on the small lakes, 
and palms nod gracefully to the stone pines and 
the stiff, dark fir-trees. The stony land, even high 
up among the mountains, bears a kind of cactus 
.called Indian fig. The great thick leaves grow 
out of each other, and the fruit is set round the 
upper part of each leaf. It is sweet and pearlike 
in taste, and forms the principal food of the peas- 
ants during several months of the year." 

'^ I wish I could see those olive and orange 
orchards, and the tall, waving palms," said Mag- 
gie. 

*' I should like our growths the best," said 
Thornie. " I do not believe there can be anything 
in that line more beautiful than our farms, with 
their broad meadows, and their great fields of 
wheat, and rye, and oats, and their upland pas- 
tures on the edge of deep woods, all broken by 
mossy rocks, and cool hollows, and little singing 
rills." 

''You are right, Thornie," replied uncle. 
" Other vegetation may be more gay, more lux- 
uriant, or more wild, but none is so lovely to live 
and die amidst." 

'' What kind of houses do the Sicilians have, 
uncle ? " I asked. 

''The houses of the upper class of Sicilians are 
showy but uncomfortable. They have great state- 
rooms, with gilded and painted walls upon wMch 



40 THE TWO SICILIES, 

hang" fine mirrors, but they are almost entirely 
unfurnished. The entrances are usually dirty and 
covered with filthy beggars. They have no fire- 
places. In cold weather, brass basins of burning 
charcoal are used, which warm the fingers and 
toes, but bring on teasing headaches. Stone is 
the common material for building, the floors and 
stairs being often made of it. Gentlemen^s coun- 
try-houses are usually only a story high, and- 
without glass to the windows. The town-bred 
owners occupy them occasionally during the 
spring and autumn, but remain in the cities in 
summer, where the narrow streets and high build- 
ings secure shade. Village houses often show a 
front of bars hung with macaroni. Old women 
sit at the doors and spin shining threads of flax, in 
no wise disturbed by the pigs which run in and 
out, or the fowls which cackle and peck around 
the bin of sour wine in the corner. Maidens bear 
terra cotta pitchers of water upon their heads, 
which are protected by a short veil, — of woollen 
in winter and muslin in summer. Boys drive their 
goats to the dwellings of their customers, and 
milk them before the windows, so that they may 
know that the milk is clean and has not been 
watered. Here and there, donkeys bring wine 
from the hills in long, narrow casks, hung at their 
sides like saddle-bags, or draw little carts from the 
mines, laden with blocks of sulphur. 

"Even the higher classes among the Sicilians 
live sparingly at home in order to shine abroad. 



SICILIAN DISHES. 41 

Provided they can have a gala suit, a carriage and 
horses, and can go to the opera now and then, they 
ca:e very little how they eat, dress, and sleep when 
* no one is looking on. Great numbers of the lesser 
nobility are very poor. They have obtained titles 
without fortunes to support them, yet refuse to 
labor themselves or to permit their children to do 
so. Ihis silly pride keeps them ignorant and 
miserable, with no prospect of ever rising in the 
world. '^ 

'' What do the Sicilians eat? " asked Thornie. 

''I went to a grand dinner, where, as nearly as I 
can remember, the courses were as follows : First 
we had soup, then macaroni served in two ways, 
— with grated cheese alone, and with cheese, oil, 
tomatoes, and fried slices of fruit. This was fol- 
lowed by vegetables variously dressed, and. shell- 
fish. Next came the largest fish that could be 
bought in the market, its immense size being its 
especial recommendation ; and afterward, fancy 
dishes, roast meats, salad, delicious pastry, fruit, 
and coffee. Small plates of raw ham, anchovies, 
olives, and fresh figs, remained upon the table 
during the changes.^' 

" Were any toasts drunk ? '' asked Thornie. " I 
think it is a stupid custom to drink toasts. '^ 

^' We drank a kind of toast consisting of an 
impromptu complimentary couplet. When given 
.by the guest, it ends with and rhymes to the name 
of the host. When offered by the host, it ends 
with and rhymes to that of the guest. The gen- 



42 TEE TWO SICILIES. 

tlemen rose with the ladies instead of stopping to 
drink by themselves/' 

" The Sicilian is a much more difficult kind of 
toast than that which is drunk in this country," 
said Thornie. 

''It appears so at first, but one soon gets the 
knack of rhyming. 

'' At other tables beside that I have meationed, 
I have eaten of partridges, plovers, wild ducks, 
cranes, larks, delicious beccaficos, or fi^-peckers, 
wild boar and frogs ; have tasted of iced water 
containing a few drops of zambra, a spirit distilled 
from anise seed ; and have found at dessert some- 
thing that Bessie would like very much." 

'' What was that, uncle ? " asked Bessie. . ''Was 
it candy ? " 

" No, it was whipped cream sprinkled with the 
smallest of bright-colored sugar-plums." 

" What do the peasants eat ? " I asked. 

" Indian figs, brown bread, onions, fish, roasted 
chestnuts, macaroni, — when they can get it, — 
and polenta. The latter is a Eoman dish, consisting 
of corn-meal flavored with grated cheese and 
smoothed with olive oil. Another national dish is 
made of pulse, lentils, lupines, and the carob pod, 
and is eaten either cold or hot. When eaten cold, 
it is dressed with oil and vinegar as a salad ; when 
eaten hot, it is boiled with oil, lard, meat, and 
fish." 

"Oh, horrible I " exclaimed Maggie, in deep 
disgust. "Do the Sicilians ever dance, uncle ? " 



CHILDREN'S GAMES IN SICILY. 43 

" Yes, they are very fond of dancing. Among 
their national figures is the barubba, in which the 
dancers paint their faces and go through various 
violent movements in imitation of savages, to the 
sound of the drum and trumpet. It is a most 
uncouth affair, and if I had come upon the per- 
formers without warning, I do not know but I 
might have thought they were getting ready to 
scalp an unfortunate victim. The guitar is uni- 
versally used, but the peasants prefer more noisy 
instruments, such as the tambourine, the bagpipe, 
rustic flutes made of reeds from which they draw 
really sweet sounds, and the mandoline, a sort of 
guitar strung with wire, and played with a quill. ^' 

^'What do the children play, uncle?" asked 
Bessie. 

•'Blind-man's-buff, forfeits, and cross-purposes. 
I played them all with half a dozen bright-eyed, 
laughing children, who flew about me with such 
rapid feet, and threw up their arms, and tossed 
their curly heads with such swift, graceful move- 
ments, that I was fairly bewildered with the lovely, 
moving picture. I remember that I was to redeem 
one forfeit by catching and kissing them all round, 
and I thought it would be quite as easy to catch 
six squirrels. Away we went running and leap- 
ing, now to the balcony, now down the grand 
stairway, now to the chambers, and the fairies 
would pull my coat this, that, and the other way, 
and dart off so quickly that I could scarcely tell 
which did it last. At length, wholly out of breath, 



44 THE TWO SICILIES. 

I sat down and bought them off with some Amer- 
ican coins, whicli they kept for curiosities. After 
that, I had a kiss all round without running for 
them, and sweet kisses they were.'' 

'' Did you see any monks, uncle ? ''asked Maggie. 

'' Yery many. There were, at the time of my 
visit, seventy thousand monks and nuns in the Two 
Sicilies. I know nothing about the nuns, but the 
monks were, for the most part, lazy, dirty, and 
ignorant. They make a great parade of their 
charities. Before a window in some of the con- 
vents, there is a revolving stand on which beggars 
place dishes and bottles, and receive them again 
"filled with food and wine. But the monks manage 
to get back more than they give. They watch the 
nets of the fishermen, and waving a piece of rope 
over them by way of a benediction, pick out the 
finest fish, without once thinking of paying for it. 
When the fruit is gathered, they make the sign of 
the cross over the basket, and the richest and 
ripest figs, melons, or oranges are given without 
question or complaint. They are regular beggars, 
also, and go on little begging trips, covered with 
a white mantle having two holes for the eyes, with 
a crown of thorns set lightly on the head, and a 
rope tied round the waist." 

" I am glad that we have none of the greedy 
fellows here," said Thornie. 

''lam, too," replied uncle, ''for I think that 
while prayer helps us to labor in a manner accept- 
able to God and useful to our fellow-men, true labor 
helps us to offer true prayer." 



APPEARANCE OF THE SICILIANS, 45 

" How do the Sicilians look, uncle ? '^ 

" They are of middle size and well shaped, and 
have, in general, dark eyes and black hair. They 
are excellent mimics, and are full of fun. They 
compliment almost as much as the Spaniards, and 
use grand words for common things. They call a 
house a ' palace ' ; a trade, a ' profession ^ ; and a 
servant departing on an errand is said to be 
' charged with an embassy,' '^ 

'' Is Sicily pleasant in winter ? '' asked Maggie. 

'^ Not very, I think, for while the sun scorches, 
the wind is keen and cold. The peasant who in 
summer is ambitious to possess a white cotton or 
silk net for his hair, a broad leathern belt and 
silver buckles for his shoes, in winter clothes him- 
self from head to foot in shaggy sheepskin, to which 
he adds, at morning and evening, a long brown 
cloak with a pointed hood. Cloaks of the same 
style are worn also by the wealthy, but of finer 
material." 

^' Are there many schools and colleges in the 
island ? " I asked. 

" No," replied uncle ; " they are few in number 
and poor in quality, because the priests used to 
control them, and they wished to keep the people 
in ignorance. They are, however, beginning to 
improve under the better and freer government of 
Victor Eijianuel." 

'' Now for a story, uncle," said Maggie. 

'' Well, then, a story it shall be. One of the 
prettiest of Sicilian cities is 



46 TBE TWO SICILIES, 



" MESSINA, 

which rises from the sea in a half circle, and 
looks as if just from a bath, so dazzlingly white 
do its long tiers of houses show against the dark 
mountains behind. Many of the streets are paved 
with blocks of lava, and fountains leap and play 
and glitter in the warm sunlight. 

'' I was sitting beside one of these fountains 
with a great bunch of grapes in one hand and a 
newspaper in the other, when a friend pointed to 
a gloomy old building at a distance, and said, ' I 
can tell you a little story about yonder convent.' 

" ' That will be pleasant,' I answered, and I put 
down my newspaper and prepared to listen. 

'^ 'It is about 

' A STOLEN MARRIAGE," 

said my friend, ' and runs thus : Some years ago, 
a beautiful girl named Rosetta was standing where 
you git now, busily catching the water-drops in 
her hand and letting them drip between her jew- 
elled fingers. She was thinking of the coming 
festival, of what she would wear, and whom she 
would dance with, and her cheeks glowed and her 
eyes sparkled with pleasure. Just then the son 
of a rich Russian merchant, named Rugowski, — a 
young man as handsome, impulsive, and headstrong 
as she was herself, — happened to see her, and fell 
violently in love with her. She returned his affec- 
tion, and they wished to be married. The families 



A STOLEN MARItlAQE. 4Y 

of both parties opposed the match, thinking that 
the young people were entirely unsuited to each 
other, and that they would be very wretched as 
husband and wife. But their counsel and com- 
mands did not produce the slightest effect, and so 
they sent Eugowski to Russia, and shut up his 
betrothed in yonder convent. 

'' ' For six months Rosetta fretted and pouted, 
declaring that there never was such a tyrannical 
father or such a harsh mother as hers, wishing that 
she might die, so that they might repent of their 
course, and looking by turns defiant and miserable 
when her superiors tried to restrain or console her. 
She heard nothing from Rugowski. Either he did 
not write, or his letters did not reach her, and she 
was beginning to fret at him also, and accuse him 
of having forgotten her, when she heard him one 
twilight, chanting a part of the vesper service. 
His voice was rich and mellow, and it swelled up 
from under the lemon-trees with sweet, entreating 
tones. Rosetta started so suddenly as to bring a 
reproof from the old nun who, as guardian and 
governess, occupied the cell with her ; but she 
cared nothing for that. She kept thinking of the 
singer, and she remained awake the whole night, 
laying a plan for escape. At first this appeared 
impossible. The building was secure in every 
part, the garden wall was of solid stone-work, 
thick and high, and all the doors and gates were 
kept locked. But Rosetta was daring and reso- 
lute, and as often as she gave up one scheme she 
began upon another. 



48 TEE TWO SICILIES. 



ti I 



She knew of no one who would help her, 
unless it might be the old woman who came occa- 
sionally to the convent to sell fruit, and there was 
always a nun within hearing whenever she wanted 
to buy even a dozen figs. However, when the 
fruit-seller — whose name was Ballina — came 
again, she managed to let her know that she had 
something to say to her privately. So the latter 
pretended there was a knocking at the gate, and 
the portress who was in attendance hurried away 
to learn what was wanted. Then Rosetta told 
Ballina to find Rugowski and bid him be at the 
gate the next evening at nine o'clock. When the 
time arrived, Rosetta raised an alarm of fire, and 
thus threw the nuns into the wildest confusion. 
They lived so quietly, and events of consequence 
were so rare, that they had no courage or self- 
possession ; and they ran hither and thither, 
wringing their hands, and unmindful of the Lady 
Superior, who was doing her best to still the com- 
motion. While the uproar was at its height, 
Rosetta contrived to push rudely against the 
portress and cut the keys from her girdle. Then 
she slipped softly into the garden and unlocked the 
gate. Ballina had been faithful, and Rugowski 
was waiting for her with a dark cloak to cover up 
the conventual dress, which, much against her 
will, she had been compelled to wear. They went 
directly to a priest and were married, while the 
abbess and her nuns were still ransacking every 
nook and corner of the convent and garden for 
their lost charge. 



THE SECBET LOVERS. 49 

" * All turned out as their friends anticipated. 
The young- people imagined that they were in 
paradise for a time. Both were smiling- and ten- 
der, and did everything, they could think of to 
please each other. Then slight misunderstandings 
and little jealousies arose. Sudden flashes of 
angerjj sullen discontent, hot words, scornful looks, 
and painful, studied neglect, followed. Love turned 
to hatred, and Kosetta was glad to go back to the 
convent from which she had been so eager to 
escape.' '' 

" Was she h£i.ppy after she went back, uncle ? '^ 
asked Maggie. ''Did the gentleman tell you 
whether she was or not ? ^' 

''He did not tell me,'' replied uncle, " but we 
may be very sure that she was not happy, unless 
she became a great deal more patient and unselfish 
than she had ever shown herself to be.'' 

''Do you know another true love story, .Uncle 
Paul ? " asked Thornie. 

" Yes," answered uncle, " I know one still sad- 
der than that. The events occurred in the same 
province, upon its eastern shore, at the extremity 
of the Faro, as the Straits of Messina are often 
called. I put them into rhyme while I sat on the 
mouldering, stones of the old castle which was thus 
rendered memorable. I called my little poem 

" THE SECRET LOVERS. 

" Silent and sad the region round, 

Comes from the parching earth no sound, 

4 



60 TEE TWO SICILIES. 

The song of the waves is soft and low, 
Hushed in its free but gentle flow, 
And the sun looks down with a blinding glare 
Through thehot, unstirring midsummer air. 

• 

" I sit on the wall of a fortress old; 
'Twas strong, and gloomy, and dark, and cold 
In the da}' s when the belted barons bold 
Battled for honor and not for gold. 
Now not a tower its column rears, 
No archway grim and stern appears, 
And iron bolts and bars give place 
To the green ivy's wreathing grace. 

" Once twenty knights as true as steel 
Followed its lord for woe or weal ; 
Once forty bowmen, fearless all, 
Answered its owner's battle-call; 
Once the shorn priest with solemn air 
Lifted his voice in chant and prayer ; 
And many a page and lady fair 
Rustled in silks and satins rare. 

. " Philip v., — but I have no space 
His gracious and merry rule to trace, 
'Tis his daughter's story I would repeat 
In pleasing numbers and rhythm sweet. 

" Firenza was the maiden's name, 
Firenza of Sicilian fame. 
For poets praised her golden hair, 
Her eye of blue, her witching air, 
Her voice,' which reached the inmost heart. 
And healed its every secret smart. 

" Never was there a fonder sire 
, From northern snows to Ethiop's fire. 



THE SECRET LOVEHS. 51 

Not one whose every hope and fear, 
Whose hours of gloom, whose hours of cheer, 
More closely linked him to his child, 
Or bounding boy or maiden mild. 

** Firenza was his hope and pride, 
For her he would have gladly died ; 
To her he every plan revealed, 
From her no wish, no thought concealed. 
Her welcome was the one he sought 
When he returned from fields well fought ; 
No music in the lyre he heard 
Unless its notes her bosom stirred; 
No pleasure in the cup for him 
Unless her lips had touched the brim ; 
Nor cared he in the chase to ride 
If she had wandered from his side. 

" No cloud between them ever came, 
Until of love the uncertain flame 
Was kindled in the maiden's heart, 
And from her sire drew her apart. 
For not to Raymond's handsome face, 
Not to young Tancred's form of grace, 
Not to bold Richard's iron arm 
Ready to ward off every harm, 
Gave she a thought, a blush, a sigh. 
Or cared if they were far or nigh. 

*' She loved, — I hesitate to tell, — 
She loved, not wisely but too well, 
The heir of a proud rival race, 
Forgot her name, forgot her place, 
And met him secretly by night. 
When heavy clouds obscured the light. 

" Alas, Firenza, foolish maid. 
Flattered, caressed, and then betrayed! 



52 THE TWO SICILIES. 

" Once, when nor moon nor twinkling star 
Shone from the gloomy vault afar, 
When the deep sob of shrub and tree, 
Mixed with the moaning of the sea, 
Told of the coming tempest's wrath, 
Eearful to ail upon its path, — 
With light and rapid foot she sped 
Through winding passages which led 
To .a low postern in the wall, 
Known but to few in bower or hall. 
Scarcely did she with trembling hand 
Withdraw the bolt and shivering stand 
Beyond the shelter of the toAver, 
Beyond her father's shielding power, 
Than, with a sharp and sudden cry, 
She fell upon the earth to die. 

*' Tangling her curls of golden hair, 
Crushing her brow and cheek so fair, 
Trampling her rounded limbs of snow. 
Staining her mantle's crimson flow. 
Her lover's kinsmen fleet and fierce 
Eushed on, her father's heart to pierce. 

" Sliort was the struggle, fast the blows 
Were dealt by stoat and treacherous foes, 
Their victims wakened but to die, — 
Scarce could they fight, they could not fly. 

" In twice ten minutes all was done, 
No eye looked on the rising sun ; 
Not one of all that brilliant train 
E'er wielded sword or lance again. 
Dead were the knights as true as steel 
Who followed their lord for woe or weal, 
Dead were the bowmen, fearless all, 
Who answered their leader's battle-call, 



THE SECRET LOVERS. 63 

Dead was the baron and dead liis wife, 
Dead was his child, — his love, his life. 

" Such is the tale which is chiselled deep 
On the crumbling stones of this donjon — keep; 
On the broken arch and the ruined wall, 
"Which threaten at every gust to fall ; 
Which is whispered still by the moaning sea, 
Which a peasant has just now told to me." 

" Oh, uncle, how dreadful that was ! " said 
Maggie, who had been crying over the fate of the 
unfortunate Firenza. 

" She deserved her punishment, anyhow," re- 
torted Thornie, his eyes flashing, and his slight 
figure fairly quivering with indignation. '' Only 
think of the meanness of cheating such a father ! '' 

'^ And the vulgarity of meeting her lover out- 
side the castle after dark," added I. 

''-Yes, I know she appears heartless, and mean, 
and vulgar, but I pity her for all that," said Mag- 
gie, " and I am glad she never knew the dreadful 
mischief that she did."' 

" So am 1, Maggie, glad of that," replied I. 
" And I am glad, too, that the baron did not know 
who let his foes into the castle. That would have 
been too terrible ; it really would." 



CHAPTER III. 



KATE AND THOENIE DIFFEH IN OPINIOIT EESPECTING THE POVEETT OF P0ET3 — 
HOUSE OF THE EAEL OF STIRLIU-G — HOLLAKD HOUSE — POPE'S VILLA AT TWICK- 
ENHAM — THE PEETENTIOUS ME. BENTHAM — LADY ANNE BAENAED'S HOUSE — 
EOGEES'S HOUSE IN ST. JAMES'S PLACE — MOOEE'S COTTAGE NEAK DEVIZES — 
MISS bailie's HOUSE AT HAMPSTEAD — THORNIE YIELDS FOE THE TIME — 
PALEEMO — STREETS OF PALERMO— THE TUN.NY FISHERY — THE INVASION OF 
SICILY BY HAMILKAE — GELO'S LUCKY STRATAGEM — DEFEAT OF THE CARTHA- 
GINIANS—THE INVASION OF SICILY BY HANNIBAL — ASSAULT OF HIMEEA — 
TERRIBLE REVENGE OF HANNIBAL — THE EXILES OF GELA — THE BEAUTIFUL 
APPEAL OF TELINUS — ITS SUCCESS — POSITION OF SYRACUSE — ALPHEUS, THE 
RIVER-GOD, AND HIS BRIDE ARETHUSA. 

DID not know that you could write poe- 
try, uncle, until you read to us your 
pretty lines on the ' Secret Lovers,' ^' said 
I, when we were collected for another 
lesson. 
" I think uncle can write anything he 
pleases, '^ said Maggie. 

"So do I now, Maggie, '' I answered ; " and 
I wish he had done nothing but write poetry all 
his life.'' 

"I do not wish anything of the kind," said 
Thornie, " for poets are poor, and in that case we 
should have no Fonthill to visit." 

''How can you say that poets are poor, and 




THE POVERTY OF POETS. 55 

haven't nice houses ! " I exclaimed indignantly. 
" I can show you in a twinkling that yon are mis- 
taken ; " and I opened one of uncle's portfolios and 
took out a handful of pictures. " In the first 
place, look at this sketch of Stirling's house." 




HOUSE OF THE EAEL OP STIRLIKO. 



" Very well;" answered Thornie ; " Stirling 
lived ages ago, and I heard uncle say he was 
secretary of state for Scotland. That picture does 
not help your side of the argument at all." 

" So be it, then," said I. " But here is Holland 
House, where Addison lived — the Addison who 



56 



THE TWO SICILIES. 



wrote the Gharming hymn which we used to repeat 
every Sunday evening in town : 

* The spacious firmament on high, 
With all the blue ethereal sky, 
And spangled heavens, a shining frame, 
Their great Original proclaim.' " 




HOLLAND HOUSE. 



*' Oh, pshaw ! Uncle was talking about Addi- 
son only yesterday, and he told us how he had 
a pension to enable him to travel in Italy, and then 
he was made commissioner of something, I forget 
what, and finally he became secretary of state." 

" That is one half the story, Thornie,'' replied I ; 



TEE rUETENTIOUS MR. J3ENTnA.}f. 



57 



*' the other half is that his verses brought him into 
notice, and were thus the cause of all his pros- 
perity.'^ 

"But I have more pictures, as you will see. 
Here is Pope's villa at Twickenham." 




pope's villa at T\yiCKENHAM. 



" I remember about Pope," said Thornie, '' for 
Mr. Bentham quotes him forever." 

''Tiresome man that Mr. Bentham," returned 
I ; '' tiresome, very, because he is all the time try- 
ing to show off." 

'* Uncle knows a thousand times as much as Mr. 
Bentham, and he never tries to show off." 



58 



TEE TWO SICILIES. 



*' No, never ; he says it is vulgar to make pre- 
tensions of any kind.'^ 

'' What is that picture you have in your hand 
now, Kate ? '^ 

" It is a picture of Lady Anne Barnard's house. 




LADY ANJS'E BARNARD'S HOUSE 



Lady Anne wrote 'Auld Robin Gray/ you will 
remember,'' I continued, and then I sang the last 
verse of that touching ballad : 

• I gang like a ghaist, and I care na to spin, 
I daurna think on Jamie, for that wad be a sin ; 



EOGERS'S HOUSE, 



59 



But I'll do my best a gude wife to be, 
For auld Eobin Gray is kind unto me.'! 

*' Here is a picture of Rogers's house in St. 
James's Place.'' 




EOGEES'S HOUSE IS ST. JAMES'S PLACE. 

" Was it Rogers who wrote that cunning story 
about the ' Bag of Gold V? " asked Thornie. 



60 



THE TWO SICILIES. 



^* The very same/' answered T. ''And how 
prettily it is told ! I positively trembled for the 
old woman and her daughter, until I read the 
triumphant words of the young lawyer, *But to 
whom is the bag of gold to be delivered ? What 
says the bond ? Not to one, not to two, but to 
the three — let the three stand forth and claim it.' 

"Now look at this lovely little sketch of Moore'.« 
cottage near Devizes. 




mooke's cottage near devizes. 



''Next I will look for dear Miss Baillie's house 
at Hampstead,^' said I. " I remember reciting her 
lines to a kitten last winter, when Uncle and Aunt 
Lynwood came into the schoolroom. Ah, yes I 
here it is ; look, Thornie — just look I '' 



MISS BAILLIE^S HQUSE^ 



61 



" ^Tis a nice-looking place," replied Thornie, 
" and I will yield for this time ; but one of these 
days I shall speak on my side of the question.'' 




MISS baillie's house at hampstead. 



" I wish you would, Thornie,'' answered 1, 
*' and we will have rare fun. You might begin 
now, only that uncle is ready." 

" Yes," said uncle, " ready to tell you about 



62 THE TWO SICILIES. 



" PALERMO. 



" Palermo is a beautiful city lying on the curv- 
ing edge of a bay. Behind it are fruitful fields, 
which stretch back to cool, green hills. The 
semicircle which these hills enclose is often called 
the ' Golden Shell.' Two long streets crossing 
each other form the best part of the city, but there 
are several delightful public squares with fountains 
and statues in them. A charming walk along the 
shore is called the ' Marina.' One end of it termi- 
nates at a pleasant public garden. The streets 
are paved, but they are muddy after rains, and are 
then crossed on little movable bridges. Along 
them are ranges of palaces, with shops and stalls 
on the ground floor, balconies over which wet 
linen is hung to dry, and grand gateways with 
coats of arms half covered with playbills.'' 

''I should not care for a palace disfigured in 
that way," said I. 

"Probably not; the people of cold climates 
usually value privacy and keep their domestic in- 
dustries out of sight as far as possible. The 
people of hot climates open their kitchens to the 
public as much as their parlors. The Sicilian idea 
of agreeable and polished life differs much from 
ours. But I will go on with my description. 
Where was I when you spoke, Kate ? " 

" You were telling us about the streets of Pa- 
lermo, uncle." 

"In the morning the streets are bustling and 



PALERMO. 63 

noisy. Ladies go to church — young men dash by 
on horseback — melancholy convicts, dressed in 
yellow and chained together, pass under guard — 
nobles, ojfficers, and priests sit in chairs before the 
coffee-houses — thirsty people gather round the 
gaudily-decked iced-water stalls — tailors, coop- 
ers, and workmen of all kinds, in fact, occupy 
themselves' in front of their shops, driving the 
walkers off the pavement — while the merry coach- 
men call laughingly to them to take care, marking 
each one by a name expressive of his or her figure, 
dress, and the like. Beggars swarm everywhere, 
with the mournful cry, ' Give me • something for 
the love of God — a farthing — I am so very hun- 
gry.' Or perhaps they say, 'Give me a trifle for 
the love of the Blessed Virgin — I am hungry ! — I 
am so very hungry ! ' At one or two points, great 
baskets stand beside a fire, made between four 
stones, over which a pot is boiling. Here a cook 
stews common garden snails with green herbs and 
tomatoes, and sells the disagreeable dish smoking 
hot to customers." At noon the streets are de- 
serted for dinner and an indoor lounge. As 
evening approaches, they are again filled with 
people on foot and in carriages," crowding to the 
breezy Marina. Sometimes they ax'e illuminated 
for festivals and public rejoicings, when they are 
lined with slight wooden arcades, all of the same 
height, covered with lighted lamps.'' 

^' How gayly they must look when they are 
illuminated ! " exclaimed Maggie. '' I should like 
to see them then." 



64 THE TWO SICILIES, 

" What else do poor people eat except those 
odious snails, uncle ? " asked Thornie. 

" They eat tunnies. Do you want to know how 
tunnies are caught ? '^ 

" Yes, sir. Are they caught like trout ? '^ 

" Not at all,'^ replied uncle, laughing heartily. 
" The tunny is from five to seven feet long, and 
almost as large round. It is migratory, like the 
herring, and passes Sicily on its way to spend the 
summer in the Black Sea. It is taken in great nets 
from fourteen to fifteen hundred feet long, nearly 
three hundred feet wide, and from fifty to one hun- 
dred feet deep. These nets are put into boats, with 
a quantity of large stones and anchors. They must 
stand upright in the water, so as to form walls of 
network, and as there are often strong under-cur- 
rents, which would wash them into a slanting posi- 
tion, watchers lo^ok constantly into the sea to give 
notice when it is perfectly still. Their signal 
brings the boats with the nets to the spot selected, 
about a mile from the shore. The stones and 
anchors are fastened here and there alonoc the 
lower edge of the net to sink it, and pieces of cork 
are attached to the upper edge to make it float. 
It is then let down by two boats' crews, which 
part from one point and lower them; so that 
they form a long range of squares or chambers ; 
these chambers have doors opening into each 
other, which can be opened and closed by the fish- 
ermen when they please ; so that the entire net is 
really a net-work hou^e, with roof, sides, bottom, 



THE TUNKT FISHERY. 65 

and partitions. When the nets are properly 
arranged, the assistance of St. Anthony, the patron 
of Roman Catholic fishermen, is prayed for. A 
branch of olive, perhaps ten feet high, is set up in 
the middle of the fishery, and the priest sails round 
the nets, blessing them as he goes. 

''■ Two watchers next take their place at the 
door of the first chamber. They lean over the side 
of the boat, with wide tarpaulins upon their heads 
to screen them from the burning sun, and occa- 
sionally pour a little oil on the water to make it 
smooth. Every three hours they are relieved ; for 
as they cannot speak or move during their 'watch, 
it is extremely tiresome. When the tunnies enter 
the first room in the net, the door is pulled up and 
is kept closed until they go into the second ; this 
is then shut behind them, while the first one is 
opened to let in more fish, and so on. When they 
reach the last room, — which is made very strong 
and is called the death-chamber, — the net is drawn 
near the surface of the water, and each fisherman, 
seizing a sharp, hooked weapon, helps to drag the 
fish into the boats. 

^' Upon Saturday and Sunday evenings, the pro- 
prietor of the Solanto fishery, eight miles from 
Palermo, gives a dance for the fishermen and their 
families, and the young people not only dance 
quadrilles, but even polkas and mazourkas.^' 

" I am glad I am not a Solanto fisherman. I 
donH think I should like any part of their life ex- 
cept the dancing,' ' said Thornie. 

5 # 



66 THE TWO SICILIES, 

'' I believe you/' replied uncle. " I cannot 
even fancy my impatient nephew keeping a three 
hours' immovable watch on the water in a broil- 
ing June sun/' 

Thornie blushed, and said, to hide his confusion, 
" Now let us have a war-story, uncle." 

" A true story, or a made-up story ? '' 

" A true one I A true one I '' we cried, and 
uncle began : — 

" Eastward from Palermo, and not far from it, is 

the site of the ancient Himera, celebrated for 

< 

" THE DEFEAT OF HAMILKAE AND THE TERRIBLE REVENGE 
OF HANNIBAL, 

which happened thus. Some hundreds of years 
before Christ, the Carthaginian general, Hamilkar, 
invaded Sicily, at the head of three hundred thou- 
sand men. He landed at Palermo, and marched 
directly against Himera. Notwithstanding the 
number of his soldiers and their savage disposi- 
tions, the Himerans were not frightened, — at least, 
they were not afraid of him. They were only 
afraid of traitors among themselves, and they even 
bricked up their gates, lest they might be slyly 
opened to the enemy. They, however, took every 
possible measure for defence, and sent to Gelo, 
lord of Syracuse, begging for immediate aid. Gelo 
promptly afforded it, for he said, ' If Himera falls, 
we shall have the barbarians down upon us.' So, 
with fifty thousand foot and five thousand horse, 
he set out for Himera. On his way, he caught 



THE DEFEAT OF HAMILKAR. 67 

a courier who was travelling in hot haste to the 
Carthaginian camp, and opening his despatches, 
be learned that the Selinuntines were to send a 
body of horse at a certain time to the assistance 
of JIamilkar. ' Aha/ said Gelo, ' I think I will 
spoil that nice little plan I' And so be did, sure 
enough, for he detached from his cavalry a number 
equal to that expected from Selinuntura, with 
orders to join the hostile camp at the appointed 
hour, and when once within its bounds to throw 
the Carthaginians into disorder. 

" He was strictly obeyed. His Syracusans 
were admitted with shouts ; and when, reaching 
the very centre of the camp, they turned suddenly 
and charged to the right and left, the uproar and 
confusion were frightful. At the same moment, 
the Himerans and Syracusans marched out from 
the city, and, notwithstanding the vast number 
and great bravery of the Carthaginians, they 
gained a complete victory. 

''A careful search was made for the body of 
Hamilkar, but it could not be found. During the 
whole engagement, he had been sacrificing to his 
gods, and his countrymen said that when he found 
defeat certain he leaped into the flames. Al- 
though he was an enemy, the Himerans honored 
his courage and skill, and erected a monument to 
his memory. 

" By and by, Giskon, the son of Hamilkar, had 
a son born to him, whom he named Hannibal. He 
was a passionate and revengeful little fellow, and 



68 THE TWO SICILIES. 

when he heard how his grandfather was defeated 
in Sicily, he swore with a wicked oath that he 
would take vengeance on the Sicilians when he 
should be grown up. He talked about it, and 
planned for it, and dreamed of it, and when he be- 
came a general, he did as he had sworn —he led a 
great army against Himera. 

'' As fast -as his troops came up, he placed them 
in the best position for attack, and, without losing 
a moment, he began to batter the walls above, and 
to undermine them below. The Himerans de- 
fended themselves with equal bravery, and no 
breach was made on the first day. On the second 
day, twenty-five Syracusan vessels sailed into the 
harbor ; and the poor people, supposing them to 
be filled with soldiers, shouted for joy. But they 
were empty, and the leader could only take as 
many as the ships would hold to a safe spot on the 
coast, and then return as quickly as possible for 
the rest. Many lives hung on each passing min- 
ute, and old men, women, and children, were hur- 
ried on board without an extra garment, or a loaf 
of bread. Those who remained, fought like heroes, 
but at the very moment when the returning vessels 
were seen like a speck on the horizon, the enemy 
broke down a part of the fortifications, and the 
whole Carthaginian army burst in and spread 
through the city. 

" This was the hour that Hannibal had dreamed 
of and waited for. He did not stop to think that 
his grandfather had been justly overthrown by a 



TELINUS AND PERSEPEONE. 69 

braye people on their own soil in the maintenance 
of their own rights ; nor that, even if his con- 
querors had been guilty of crime, these their 
descendants were wholly innocent. His heart 
cried, ' vengeance ! vengeance I ' and with a fierce 
joy he watched the destruction. The temples 
were robbed and burned, the walls and houses 
were pulled down, and the delicate women and 
dear little children were given to the victors for 
slaves. Three thousand male captives — all that 
were left from the assault — were driven to the 
monument raised by their own ancestors in honor 
of Hamilkar, and were there put to death as an 
offering to him.'' 

'' How awful ! " said Maggie, shutting her eyes, 
as if she could thus shut oat the frightful memory. 
"How awful ! How can anybody be so cruel and 
revengeful ! " 

*' It was awful," replied uncle, "but cruelty is 
always awful, and a mere school-boy may be as 
cruel for his means as Hannibal was for his." 

"Do give us something pretty. Uncle Paul," 
said I, — " nothing grand or striking, but some- 
thing simple and peaceful." 

" I think, myself, that we have had enough of 
the horrible for once," replied uncle, "so I will 
tell you about 

" TELINUS, fflGH PRIEST OF DEMETER, AND PERSEPHONE. 

" A few hundreds of years before Christ, some of 
the inhabitants of Gela — now Terranova — were 



YO THE TWO SICILIES. 

dissatisfied with the management of public affairs. 
At first, they whispered this at home, — then they 
spoke of it to a friend or two, — and at length they 
declared it openly. The feeling grew in bitterness, 
and occasioned a tumult, in which the fault-finders 
were driven out of the city. .They took refuge at 
Mactorium, a hamlet on the heights above Gela; 
but they looked sadly upon their homes smiling 
from among the olive and lemon trees, and longed 
once more to worship their household gods and to 
frolic with their little ones in their own dwellings. 
But how could they contrive to return ? They 
were too few in numbers to fight their way in, and 
they had nothing with which to bribe their tri- 
umphant enemies. 

'' Many plans were proposed and rejected, when 
Telinus, priest of Demeter and Persephone, asked 
leave to try the effect of a religious procession and 
the symbols used in the ceremonies of the god- 
desses whom he served. Clothed in a long purple 
robe, with a diadem on his flowing hair, he set out 
just as the new moon was sinking behind the 
mountains. Following and keeping time to his 
chanted hymns, in which they joined at intervals, 
were the exiles, — for the most part men, but with 
a few wives, daughters, and sisters, who had fled 
with them or had found means to join them. Slen- 
der vases of pomegranate and poppy seeds — 
for Demeter was goddess of the harvest — were 
drawn on a wagon by white oxen. A group of 
young girls bore on their heads pitchers of barley- 



SYRACUSE. 71 

water, and baskets of cakes sweetened with 
honey, freshly gathered mint, and a few grains of 
salt. Small statues — one of Demeter and another 
of Persephone — were carefully carried, while the 
worshippers, garlanded with flowers and carrying 
lighted torches, danced by their side. Winding 
through the vineyards of Mactorium, crossing the 
open space rich in waving grain, and ^passing 
under the frowning walls where armed sentinels 
kept watch against them, — slowly, and with only 
the sweet sounds of solemn music telling of their 
approach, — came the exiles, anxious lest after all 
they should be shut out. But, lo, the gate flew 
open I One and another snatched up lamp and 
taper and fell into the line, when the whole glad 
multitude went to sacrifice together in the tem- 
ple. 

'' All was forgiven and forgotten, and it was 
decreed that, in memory of this beautiful service, 
the office of high priest to Demeter and Per- 
sephone should be hereditary in the family of 
Telinus, forever.^' 

"That is lovely, uncle, '^ said I. "I vote for 
another after the same style.'' 

" You cannot have it, Miss Kate,'' replied 
uncle, " but I can give you a pretty little legend, 
which you may like as well. The city of 

*' SYRACUSE 

" stands on the eastern shore of Sicily, and occu- 
pies only the smallest of the fortified portions of 



"72 THE TWO SICILIES. 

the old town, which was one of the most famous in 
the world. Among the few places in it which a 
traveller cares to visit, is the fountain of Arethusa. 
It is now a cistern, shut in by four walls, and sur- 
rounded, in the daytime, by washerwomen, 4vho 
rinse their linen in the sparkling water. But when 
I saw it, r forgot all about the stiff stonework and 
the splashing scrubbers, and went back in thought 
to the period of the Greek legend of 

" ALPHEUS THE RIVER-GOD, AND HIS BRIDE ARETHUSA. 

'' The river Alpheus took its rise far away in 
green and freedom -loving Arcadia. Flowing 
through El is and the grand Olympian plain, it 
fell into the sea with a song of gladness. For 
many and many a long year, the god of the stream 
had a merry time of it. Mountain rivulets brought 
him cold draughts from lofty gorges, — noble oxen, 
patient cows, and fine-wooled sheep, fed along his 
borders, — the hunter, loaded with game, stooped 
to drink of his clear waters, — and, lying at his 
ease, he could look on the noisy festivals of Pan, 
the god of shepherds. 

*' But one day, the nymph Arethusa went out to 
gather violets, and having filled her basket, she 
sat down by the river-side and braided the finest 
of them into a wreath. Then she put it on and 
peeped into the stream, the only mirror that she 
knew anything about. The god was delighted. 
Never had he seen anything so beautiful. If he 
could but marry her and have her to live with 



ALPHEUS AND ARETEUSA. tS 

him in his pretty house of soft, singing reeds ! 
He felt sure that he could make her happy if she 

i would only let him try. He was very humble. 

' He was willing- to beg — willing even to wait 
awhile, but he really must have her for a dear little 
wife. Arethusa, however, did not like the plan. 
She refused him decidedly, and finding him reso- 
lute, she ran away. Poor, disappointed Alpheus 
ran too, calling her by all the sweet names he 
could think of, and imploring her at least not to be 
quite so positive. By that time, Arethusa was really 
frightened. She thought she should certainly be 
dragged down, out of sight and hearing of the 
upper world, into a dim cavern, where her friends 
could never find her. So she fled faster and faster 
over hill and valley, and along the tops of the 
great billows to the island of Ortygia — now Syra- 
cuse, — where she changed herself into a fountain. 
^' At first, Alpheus was extremely sorrowful. 
He wept and sighed and wept and sighed. Then 
he wiped his eyes with a white lily and went 
slyly to work. He was strong and industrious, 
and in a few hours he made a passage under the 
sea, and mingled his crystal waves with the glit- 
tering waters of his beloved Arethusa.'' 

" Hurrah for Alpheus, the river-god ! '' shouted 
Thornie. '' He was a lover after my own heart ! '' 



CHAPTER IV. 



AW BVESIHO ON THE VEBAlf DA — PECyCE CKEST — CEBSX'S NAUGHimESS— SEITT 
TO MADAM STOKK — THE WOITDEKFUL \VALL — CREST IN A PASSIOK — DE- 
SCRIPTION OF STOKKLAKD — CREST AT NIGHT — CREST'S BATH — CREST'3 
BREAKFAST — CREST'S REFLECTIONS — \THAT THE WALL WAS MADE OP — CREST 
RETURNS HOME — THE CONTINENTAL PORTION OF THE TWO SICILIES — LAST 
DAYS IN ROME — FONDI — THE PIRATE AND THE COUNTESS — INN ON THE BAT 
OF GAETA — NURSERY RHYME— ROAD TO NAPLE S — DESCRIPTION OF NAPLES — 
THE LAZZARONI — SOCIETY OF NAPLES — VIEW OF NAPLES AND ITS SURROUND- 
INGS — MT. VESUYIUS — HERCULANEUM — POMPEII — PUCK AND SNOWBALL. 




AST evening we sat on the veranda. It 
was so charming ! More charming than 
I can describe ! The moon was at the 
full, and the moonbeams lay all about in 
bright silver patches. The jasmines were 
in blossom, and they were as sweet as 
flowers can be. Fireflies sparkled under the trees, 
and a band in the village played " Home, sweet 
Home.'^ 

After we had talked awhile, Maggie said, 
" Aunt Mary, you can't think how I do want to 
hear one of your stories. '^ 

" One of mine, when your uncle tells so much 
better stories than I can ? " asked Aunt Mary. 

" Yes, one of yours, aunt ; for you tell such odd 
ones. Please tell us one.'' 

74 



PRmCE CREST AND BIS ADVENTURES. 75 

" Oh, yes, please do tell one," echoed Thornie 
and I. 

'' If you really wish it, I will tell one," answered 
Aunt Mary. " Let ^me consider a minute. Now 
I am ready. I will tell you about 

'' PRINCE CREST AND HIS ADVENTURES IN STORKLAND. 

" Once upon a time there was a little prince 
who had more petting than was good for him.. 
His name was Crest, and he was the son of so 
great a king that nobody thought of crossing him. 
The consequence was that he was the most disa- 
greeable boy under the sun. He was ignorant, 
lazy, disobedient, selfish, and ungrateful, and the 
torment of everybody about him, his papa and 
mamma included. At last he took it into his silly 
head to want the moon for a plaything, and be- 
cause he could not have it, he screamed and 
stamped and strack about him with a great heavy 
cane, and appeared more like a wild beast than a 
little child. The longer he thought about it, the 
more determined he was to get it, and he kept the 
whole palace in an uproar, until his papa was so 
entirely out of patience with him that he sent him 
off to an aged stork, renowned for her patience 
and happy way of bringing troublesome young 
people to reason. 

*' Crest kicked, and shrieked, and pulled out 
the hair of the servants who carried him to 
Madam Stork, and he even threatened to tear out 
their eyes and cut off their hands, but they were 



76 THE TWO SICILIES. 

SO glad to get rid of him that they bore his ill- 
treatment with fortitude. They had their reward, 
for no sooner was Crest fairly in Storkland than a 
high wall sprang up behind him, which he could 
neither climb over nor pull down, but which they 
passed through with ease and returned to their 
master. 

" Crest was furious when he saw this wall. He 
kicked it with all his might, he caught hold of the 
bars and tried to shake it, and he broke off the 
reeds which grew near, and threw them at it as 
hard as he could. Madam Stork looked on for a 
time, and then said mildly, ' My little friend, you 
may beat the wall just as much as you please, but 
I warn you that it will be useless. Nothing can 
move it except good deeds. Every time that you 
are generous, gentle, and obedient, every time 
that you do right for right's sake, one bar will dis- 
appear, and when the last one shall have vanished, 
you may leave Storkland forever.' 

•' ' 'Twill be a joyful day to me,' said Crest 
sulkily. 

'' ^ And to me, also,' replied madam, 'but it 
doesn't appear to me at present that time will ever 
come.' 

*' ' Get me something to eat, old woman, and let 
it be something nice,' said Crest. 

" Madam paid no attention to this insulting 
command, but went on showing her great grand- 
daughter how to build a nest for the eggs which 
she meant to lay. Crest looked about for some- 



PRINCE CREST AND HIS ADVENTURES. T (T 

body to quarrel with, but there was no one at 
hand, for madam had ordered all her subjects to 
keep away from him entirely, until he should be- 
come quiet and civil. She had also commanded 
that if at any time he should begiil to dispute with 
them, they should leave him until he should be in 
a better temper. 

" Crest waited a minute, and then, seeing that 
madam did not mean to serve him in haste, he flew 
at her like a young tiger, tore a gr^t hole in her 
white muslin robe, and tried to snatch her specta- 
cles from her very face. 

" Madam spoke not a word, but she put one 
foot forcibly on his shoulder, and looked at him so 
long and with so much severity, that for the first 
time in his life he felt afraid, and was glad to slink 
away out of her sight. 

" Storkland was not a very pleasant place in 
and of itself, inasmuch as it was merely a vast 
reedy shore on the bank of a great river, but the 
good and happy storks thought it a paradise be- 
cause their sweet tempers brightened and warmed 
it as if with a second sun. Crest, on the contrary,, 
would not have been comfortable in the loveliest 
spot in the world, and of course he found this 
especially dreary. He did just as he used to do 
at home. He fell into a terrible rage ; he stamped 
and roared, and cried, and tore his clothes, and 
pulled up reeds to throw at the little storks, until 
he was fairly tired out. In consequence of this, 
all the storks, without a word, went further down 
the river, leaving him to follow them or not as he 



if 8 THE TWO SICILIES. 

chose ; and he, finding; it worse without than with 
them, went too. When night came, they made 
him a little reed bed ; but he, remembering his 
mattress at home with its cambric sheets and satin 
counterpane and velvet curtains, stormed again. 
Madam Stork merely looked down to learn what 
the uproar was about, then she balanced herself on 
one foot, folded her long neck, laid her head upon 
her back, and went to sleep", or pretended to do so, 
which amounted to the same thing. All her sub- 
jects immediately followed her example, and Crest 
was left to look out for himself, as he best might. 
He was soon too tired to sit up, and he was 
ashamed to go to bed after all his naughtiness, 
but at last sleep conquered, he crept into the 
clean little reed nest, and slumbered soundly till 
morning. 

" The whole stork family arose at daybreak, and 
Crest was so hungry that he was glad to rise, too ; 
but when Madam Stork told him to go and bathe 
in the river, and gave him a reed towel and brush 
to assist him in dressing, he had another naughty 
fit, similar to those he had the day before. 

" ' No bath, no breakfast, my little friend,' said 
madam quietly ; and by and by. Crest stole down 
to the bathing-place and jumped in. The water 
was clear and warm, and it felt so pleasantly that 
he ducked his head, and threw out his arms, and 
splashed and dashed as merrily as if he had lived 
in the water all his life. And when he had dried 
himself and combed his hair and put on his clothes, 
he thought that he would never complain about 



PRINCE CREST AND HIS ADVENTURES. 79 

bathing again, but would go down with the little 
storks every morning and have a good play. 

" It was a great trial to Crest to appear before 
Madam Stork in such nice trim, but he was too 
hungry to delay long, and madam smiled kindly, 
and said, ' Ah, my young guest, you look like a 
gentleman. Your breakfast shall be served in a 
few minutes ; ' and she chatted very pleasantly 
about the things she had seen in her frequent jour- 
neys, until the meal was ready, 

"There was a little reed table, and upon the 
table were little reed dishes, and napkins braided 
with reed pith, which were as white as snow and 
as soft as satin. Two delicate broiled fishes lay 
under two covers, and there were, beside, two 
boiled eggs, a great bunch of grapes, and a reed 
goblet of cold water. Two young storks stood 
beside the chair for waiters, and everything was 
so pretty, and the fishes and the eggs and the 
grapes were so good, that Crest forgot to find fault, 
and was, for a wonder, civil to his little pages. 

" When he had finished eating, and while he 
was still sitting at table, an entirely new idea 
occurred to him. ' I declare,' said he to himself, 
' I do declare 'tis more comfortable to be good 
than to be naughty. I get so tired and hot, and 
have such a headache when I have one of. my rages 
that on the whole I'm not sure that those rages, 
are not just as disagreeable to me as to other 
people.' 

" In this quiet mood, Crest went to Madam 



80 THE TWO SICILIES, 

Stork and asked her, as politely as he knew how, to 
continue the account of her adventures which she 
began before breakfast. She was catching insects 
for a lunch, but she said she had eaten sufficiently, 
and she told such amusing stories as Crest had 
never before heard. When he was tired of listen- 
ing to her he played with the young storks, and 
when he was tired of playing he made calls with 
Madam Stork on her great family of sons and 
grandsons and, great grandsons, and daughters 
and grand-daughters and great grand-daughters, 
and so on. 

'' When night came Crest went quietly to bed, 
but before he fell asleep he looked sorrowfully at 
the wall, which stood tall and frowning between 
him and his home. Oh, how dear that home was 
to him then ! How precious appeared the things 
that he had cared the least about while he still 
possessed them ! What would he not have given 
for a kiss froni his mamma, and a ride on his papa's 
foot, both of which he had so often scorned ! 
Then he remembered that it was his own wicked 
conduct which had separated him from all that he 
loved, and he sobbed aloud. He might perhaps 
have cried all night but that he remembered that 
Madam Stork had said, * Every time that you do 
right for right's saTie, one bar of the wall will dis- 
appear, and when the last one shall have vanished 
you may leave Storkland forever.' Thereupon a 
bright hope dawned in Crest's heart, and he 
resolved to ask madam what right was. 



PRIKCE CREST AND HIS ADVENTURES. 



81 



" A good sleep improved Crest's spirits, and his 
morning bath with a few hundreds of little storks 
made him really gay ; but after breakfast he went 
directly to Madam Stork and asked these ques- 
tions : ' What is right ? And how can one do 
right for right's sake ? ^ 




UADAM SIOEK. 



'' ' Ah, my dear little friend/ replied madam, 
' how very glad I am to hear that question. I am 
sure that you would not have asked it if you had 
not resolved to improve. It is right to be obedient 
to those who have authority, and to be just and 
generous to all, and whenever you are so because 
it is right, as I told you before, one bar of that 
black wall will disappear.' 

'' 'Why?' asked Crest. 'Why will it go?' 
*' ' Because,' answered madam, ' it is built of 



82 . TEE TWO SICILIES. 

your bad passions, and naughty, selfish ways, arid 
therefore as fast as you improve it will vanish and 
be forgotten. Your dear mamma takes a telescope 
and goes every morning to the top of the high hill 
behind the palace to look at this wall. Only think 
how delighted she will be when it begins to 
lessen ! ' 

*' Crest was good for three days after this con- 
versation, and the wall lost three rows of bars. 
Then he had a naughty. fit which lasted six 
hours. Madam Stork said nothing, but marched 
off with a thousand or so of storks behind her and 
had a nice picnic down the river. When she 
returned. Crest was very hungry, very tired, and 
very sorrowful, and that was the last whole day 
that he was troublesome while he remained in 
Storkland. Little by little, the frowning wall 
passed away ; and when nothing of it remained, 
the king and queen went with their whole court 
and joyfully carried their dear, good little Crest 
back to the palace.'' 

'' Oh, what a pretty, pretty story ! '' exclaimed 
Maggie. '' Oh, Aunt Mary, you do tell the nicest 
stories ! '' 

" So you do ! So you" do ! '' said Thorni©, and 
then we kissed our thanks all round. 

This morning uncle gave us a lesson. The first 
topic was 

THE CONTINENTAL PORTION OF THE TWO SICILIES. 

" Southern Italy," said uncle, " contains fifteen 



THE CONTINENTAL POUTION OF 83 

provinces, the inhabitants of which know but little 
of each other. In this country everything is done 
to bring' people together. The newspapers tell all 
about the affairs, not only of states, but of families. 
A little boy is drowned far away in northern New 
Hampshire, and another little boy in Texas, or Cal- 
ifornia, learns it, and feels sorry for him. Some- 
body finds a silver mine at the West, and every 
State in the Union sends people to help work 
it. So, from this wide-spread knowledge and this 
wide-spread interest, come great enterprises nobly 
carried out. But in Southern Italy, until recently, 
a jealous and cruel government has, as far as pos- 
sible, prevented free communication among its 
subjects ; rightly believing that if they should be 
drawn together by common enterprises and inter- 
ests, — if they should exchange ideas largely, — if 
they should tell each other their trials and griev- 
ances, — they could not be as easily tyrannized 
over. The Bourbon kings, who reigned before 
Victor Emanuel came into power, did not try to 
make the country great, rich, and prosperous ; 
they cared only to live luxuriously, to rule despoti- 
cally, and to keep the people so poor and ignorant 
that they should not dare so much as to think 
about their rights as men and women. '^ 

'' What a wicked race ! '^ exclaimed Thornie. 

'' They were so, Thornie, with the exception 
of Charles, who did as well as he knew how, and 
who would have improved the condition of his sub- 
jects much more than he did if he had seen hjs 
way clearly/' 



84 THE TWO SICILIES. 

" Which way did you enter Southern Italy, 
uncle ? " I asked. 

'' From RomO; where I spent a part of the pre- 
ceding winter. I enjoyed the last few days of my 
stay in that city better than any of the others. 
It was then spring, the season in which everybody 
'ifeels hopeful and happy, and wherever I went, I 
found the sweet scent of growing and budding 
things. The ivies about the old ruins were fresh 
and bright, and there were hosts of fragrant viO" 
lets, and anemones, and daisies, and beautiful wall- 
flowers, which perfumed the whole air. Bird songs 
floated round the crumbling walls and gushed out 
from under the broken arches ; and the sky was 
full of golden light, which made all the browns and 
grays and greens look wonderfully clear and rich. 
i left the famous old city in a vettura, a comforta- 
ble carriage drawn by three horses, which wore 
brass trappings and a number of little bells ; and 
so we had an abundance of glitter and music. The 
first town which I entered, after crossing the line 
between Central and Southern Italy, was 

"fondi, 

" a dirty, uncomfortable place, but which has its 
little story, which I will tell you under the title of 

"the pirate and the countess. 

" In the year 1534, there lived in the castle of 
Fondi a countess by the name of Giulia Gonzaga, 
whom everybody declared to be exquisitely beauti- 



TEE PIRATE AXD THE COUNTESS, 85 

ful. The poets went half crazy about her, and so 
did the painters ; and even mothers who had lovely 
daughters admitted that they were less fair than 
this noble lady, which is the very best proof I can 
give that she was indeed perfect in face and form. 
Her fame, of course, spread far and wide. Not only 
did gay French knights and stately Spaniards 
sing her charms, but the story-tellers by the foun- 
tains of Northern Africa spun many long yarns 
about them, and the knowledge of them reached 
even to the Turkish court. 

" Unfortunately, the pirate Heyraddin Barba- 
rossa, a cruel and ambitious man, heard some of 
these glowing descriptions. He was the son of a 
Greek potter who had settled in Algiers, and had 
pretended to turn Mohammedan, for the sake of 
getting rich. By dreadful crimes, Barbarossa had 
made himself despot of Algiers ; and having re- 
ceived a favor from the Sultan Solyman II., he 
desired to offer a present in return. He bethought 
himself of all the fine things thstt he possessed, and 
all that he would probably be able to secure by a 
foray along the seacoast from the Straits of Gib- 
raltar to the city of Venice, and shook his head 
more and more decidedly at each mental sug- 
^gestion, until the idea occurred to him that he 
might carry off the countess. ' By the beard of 
the Prophet ! ' he exclaimed, ' it shall be done ! ' 

'' So, in a day or two, he set off with a few 
swift little vessels, manned by men who were as 
treacherous and cruel as himself. The coast of 



•86 THE TWO SICILIES. 

Africa sank away in the soft blue of the ocean, — 
flowery Sicily and rock-bound Ponza faded like 
mist, — and then the boats drew silently and 
stealthily to land, and silently and stealthily the 
robbers crept upward to Fondi. The town was 
fast asleep, and father, mother, and little child 
dreamed of yesterday's plays and to-morrow's 
duties. The nurse was nodding over the sick-bed, 
the monk was taking a nap before the midnight 
mass, the very watch-dog shared in the repose of 
his master. A trampling of armed men and the 
clash of weapons startled the sentinels, who sprang 
up bewildered ; the alarm bell was hastily rung ; 
and the citizens snatched their weapons, and hur- 
ried out. But the time for resistance had gone by. 
The pirates had already forced the gate, killed the 
guard, and were rushing through the little city 
with savage cries. 

''The shouts of 'Allah Acbar!' mingled with 
the shrieks and groans of the dying, awoke the 
countess ; and, without waiting even to dress, she 
let herself down from her window by the sheets 
from her bed, and fled to the mountains. The 
stones bruised her naked feet, the bushes tore her 
muslin night-dress, but the darkness which had 
favored her foes helped to conceal her, and she 
was already safe, when the enraged Barbarossa was 
hunting for her with furious oaths through hall and 
passage, from battlement to cellar. 

" ' BajBfled, and by a woman ! ' he muttered. 
* By Allah, I will be revenged I ' Then, with the 



Ilflf ON TEE BAY OF GAETA, 87 

fury ,of a demon, he fell upon the poor people of 
the town, drove them to the boats by the light of 
their burning houses, and carried them all into 
slavery/' 

*' I suppose the savage old fellow would have 
carried off those poor people just the same if he 
had caught the countess, '^ said Thornie. 

" I think he would,'' replied uncle. " The Afri- 
can pirates were cruel to the last degree." 

" Where did you stop next, uncle ? " 

'' At a pleasant inn, standing upon the spot once 
occupied by the country-seat of Cicero, the great 
Roman orator." 

^' The same, also, who figures in the charming 
nursery rhymes," said I, laughing. *' I can repeat 
them now : — 

' You'd scarce expect one of my age 
To speak in public on the stage, 
And should I chance to fall below 
Demosthenes and Cicero, 
Don't view me with a critic's eye, 
But pass my imperfections by.' " 

" And Maggie used to follow me with 
* T'inkle, t'inkle, 'ittle 'tar,' 

to the delight of the maids," added Thornie. " But 
please go on, uncle." 

'' The large and prettily painted rooms, with the 
clear sea breeze sweeping through them and scat- 
tering fragrance as it blew, invited me to stay 



88 THE TWO SICILIES. 

within doors, while the magnificent scenery with- 
out urged me to the terrace. Behind, were majes- 
tic mountains, rocky, and almost bare, but 
^beautifully colored; and in front was the Bay of 
Gaeta, dazzling with brilliant tints — crimson and 
gold and green and purple, like a multitude of 
liquid rainbows. The inn stood high upon a slope, 
and the gardens descended to the water's edge. 
They were full of fig, apricot, orange, and lemon 
trees.'' 

"It makes my mouth water to hear about it,'' 
said Thornie. 

" The latter part of the way from Eome to 
Naples, by the Aversa route, .is lovely beyond 
description," continued uncle. " Luxuriant grape- 
vines climb from elm to elm, olive and orange 
groves abound, and there are great crimson patches 
of clover, and fine fields of flax and wheat." 

*' I am glad we have reached Naples," said 
Maggie. • "I have been wanting to hear about it 
ever so long." 

" NAPLES," 

said uncle, "was the capital of the kingdom of 
the Two Sicilies, while that kingdom had an inde- 
pendent existence ; and a lovely, sunny, merry 
city it is. The common people are not thrifty and 
neat, like the farmers and artisans of our Northern 
States. Their little houses are damp, dark, and 
ill-scented ; but they live oat of doors in the glori- 
ous sunshine, with the fresh wind blowing in from 



NAPLES. 89 

the sea, or stealing over gardens ana orange or- 
chards freighted with delicious odors. The beg- 
gars are countless in number, and they rap upon 
their chin until the teeth chatter, to show how fear- 
fully hungry they are. Even infants in arms per- 
form this rapping, and extend a hand for pen- 
nies. '^ 

'' The Neapolitans are an indolent people, I im- 
agine,'^ said I. 

" Very indolent. Everywhere one hears the 
sounds of merriment, instead of those of toil. A 
whole family rides past on one horse, the wife 
seated behind her husband, and a child in front 
playing with the whip. Calashes — a curious kind 
of carriage, with seats in the middle, and an ex- 
tended floor upon which passengers stand — pass 
with from ten to fourteen people sitting, standing, 
or holding on. They are drawn by one wretched 
horse, whose leanness is mocked by his long strings 
of little bells, red tassels, and nodding flowers. 
Other equally overloaded vehicles are sometimes 
dragged by oxen, mules, or cows, or even by 
difierent animals harnessed together.'' 

" Our poor people would stay at home forever 
before they would go out in that style,'' said 
Thornie. 

*' Our people care for comfort ; the Neapolitan 
of the lower class cares for fun. -Little girls 
dance to the violin, while the parents pick up a 
trifle among the lookers-on. In little wooden thea- 
tres, puppets leap and twirl, and Pulcinello makes 



90 TEE TWO SICILIES, 

droll speeches to the laughing crowd. Almost 
within Jiearing of his jokes, a story-teller reads, 
sings, and acts passages from famous poems before 
an audience standing around, or sitting on coarse 
planks.^' 

'' I suppose the people do work some,'' said 
Maggie. 

*' Oh, yes; and out of doors, too. Workmen 
labor in front of their shops, and women cook, spin, 
sew, wash, and take care of their infants on the 
sidewalks. Along the wide beach, the fishermen's 
families mend nets, eat and sleep under the burn- 
ing sun, clad in a few rags." 

" Who are the lazzaroni, uncle ? " 

'' They are the lowest part of the people, who 
have no settled abode, and live by occasional in- 
dustry, begging, thieving, anything that will help 
them to a little fruit, a fish, or a dish of macaroni. 
They take their name from the Lazarus of the New 
Testament parable; and until recently their dress 
consisted of short drawers, a shirt, and hood. 
They have, for many years, chosen a chief annu- 
ally. The choice is made in the open air, and he 
who gets the loudest shouts wins the honor. They 
are not now regarded as a distinct class, but are 
subjected to the same regulations as the citizens. 
The life of the low Neapolitan peasantry makes 
one's heart ache ; because, although there is much 
jollity, there is no order and cleanliness, no com- 
fort, no desire for or even knowledge of what is 
really true and good. 



i 



NAPLES, 91 

" But one does not always think of this part of 
the population when in Naples, for there are a 
great many pleasant things to see, and delightful 
places to visit. There are lovely gardens, and- 
charming drives, and fine palaces, and old churches 
with no end of paintings, and a museum which is, 
perhaps, as interesting as any in the world ; be- 
cause, in addition to its treasures of art, it contains 
a great many articles from Herculaneum and Pom- 
peii. The middle class — the scholars, artists, 
and professional men of Naples — form a refined 
and agreeable society. The*i, there is the land- 
scape — the enchanting, ever-changing Bay, dot- 
ted with ships, pleasure barges and fishing boats 
which rock lightly on its sparkling waves, and 
with Capri and Portici softly outlined in the dis- 
tance, — Vesuvius, with his head veiled in white, 
blue, purple, or golden vapor, — the curving shore, 
with the city lying at the base, and on the slopes 
of its amphitheatre of hills — and all warmed and 
colored by a southern sun, form a picture of 
which one never tires/' 

** How lovely it must be ! '^ exclaimed Thornie ; 
who, with his eyes closed, had been trying to 
fancy the scene which uncle described. 

"It is lovely, Thornie, and it is something more. 
It fascinates, — it fixes the eyes and thoughts, — it 
haunts the memory — for years after one has seen 
it, he longs to see it again.'' 

" I should, not like to live very near Vesuvius/' 
said Maggie. 



92 THE TWO SICILIES, 

" Neither should I," replied uncle. '' His power 
for evil is altogether too plainly seen for miles 
along the coast. He threw up the odd-looking 
hills, scooped out the lakes, and hollowed the cav- 
erns and underground passages which the heathen 
priests made use of in their old-time fables, and 
later, he buried two gay little cities. '^ 

" I know," said Thornie. " They were Hercu- 
laneum and Pompeii.'' 

*' You are right," replied uncle. 

" HERCULANEUM 

is four miles from Naples, and lies under the towns 
of Resina and Portici. Partly from fear of over- 
throwing the buildings, and partly because the 
lava is so hard to dig through, the openings are 
slight." 

" How did you get down to it, uncle ? " 

'' By a narrow passage, sloping down to the 
theatre, many feet below the level of the street, cut 
in the solid lava." 

" Of course it was dark there," said Maggie. 

" Yes ; we had lighted torches, by which we 
saw the place for the musicians, the dressing- 
rooms for the performers, and the seats for the 
spectators. Supports have been built here and 
there to sustain the soil above, and it is thus ren- 
dered a kind of labyrinth. More than once I 
closed my eyes and tried to fancy the building in 
its first beauty, filled with eight thousand per- 
sons, and to picture to myself the flowers and 



HERCULANEUM, 93 

music, the glitter of jewels and rustling of silks, 
the gay jests and light laughter, and all the^ 
merry accompaniments of a play. Then the bright 
scene vanished, and there remained only darkness, 
except where the blazing torches cast their red 
light on the rude masonry, and silence except 
when carriage-wheels rolled above in busy Re- 
sina.'^ 

" How dismal ! '^ exclaimed Maggie. '' When 
I go to .Europe, I mean to see only pleasant 
sights ; and I am sure that I shall not go to Hercu- 
laneum.'^ 

*' You would prefer to visit 

" POMPEH, 

*' which is much more interesting than Hercula- 
neum. It was destroyed at the same time, but was 
overwhelmed, not with lava, but with hot ashes 
and pumice stones. It stands on high ground, 
thirteen miles south-east from Naples, and is sur- 
rounded on the west and south by the sea, which 
once almost washed its walls. It was a pleasant 
watering-place, where people went to show their 
fine clothes and their fine manners, much as people 
go now to Newport and Saratoga. The visitors 
lounged out of doors and watched the vessels come 
and go, or read the signs as they strelled through 
the streets. Many of these signs were not written 
out, but were expressed by pictures. A goat over 
the door meant that the shop was a milk-shop. 
Two men carrying a flask indicated a wine-shop. 



94 THE TWO SICILIES. 

A man whipping one boy, lifted on the back of 
another, pointed out the house of a schoolmaster. '^ 

'' I should not have ' applied within,' as our 
posters say, after reading a sign like that,'' said 
Thornie. 

^' The applications were made probably by 
fathers and mothers, and they may have thought 
some discipline of the kind hinted at desirable," 
replied uncle. ''I agree with you, Thornie, in 
imagining that it would not be attractive to pupils. 

" The summer guests whom I mentioned enjoyed 
themselves greatly at Pompeii. They boated and 
bathed ; they ate luxurious dinners, served in 
dishes of silver, gold, and glass, on tables orna- 
mented with exquisite little statues ; they went to 
the theatre in the most dashing of dresses ; and 
they were invited to banquets where hired danc- 
ing girls helped on the evening by their graceful 
turns and windings. 

" Suddenly this brilliant, busy life ceased. Fast 
and faster fell the gray ashes, filling the streets, 
the courts, the squares, blocking up the doorways 
and turning the day to night. Most of the inhab- 
itants fled ; but here and there a servant was sur- 
prised at his labor, — a rich man waited too long in 
the hope of saving his treasures, — an irresolute 
one lost his self-possession and wasted the precious 
moment, — and the Roman soldiers, faithful to the 
last, perished silently at their posts." 

" How glad I am that almost everybody es- 
caped ! " said Maggie. " 'Tis a comfort to think 
of that." 



POMPEII. 95 

" Yes, Maggie/' uncle began in reply, but he 
did not finish the sentence, for at that moment 
Snowball ran through the half open door into the 
room, followed by Puck, who was exclaiming, 
" Oh, 'oo dear ittle t'ing. 'Oo ittle 'Owball/' 

Our pretty pet had just arrived ; so we — the 
young people — crowded about him for a kiss and 
a frolic, while uncle went to the drawing-room to 
welcome his mother. 



CHAPTER V. 



THS60LE IN THE TABLE-CLOTH — WOLF AND LIDA — THE BLACK KOTGHT— WOLF 
EST TKOUBLE — THE EUNAWAY HOESE — THE LEAP EKOM THE CLIFF — SOKEEIfTO 
— TASSO, THE POET — TASSO AT COUET — TASSO'S EETUEN TO HIS SISTER — 
TASSO'S MISFOETUITES — CALABEIA — COSTUME OF THE CALABEIANS — CALABEIAN 
MUSIC — OCCUPATIOiTS OF THE PEASANT GIELS — HEEDSMEK OF APULIA — SHEP- 
HERDS' FESTIVAL — COSTUME OF THE ABEUZZO — BESSIE AJ^D THE SWIKG. 





HIS morning, the pupils of the home school 
were to have written compositions ; but 
uncle told us that he would omit that 
exercise, and that we might tell stories 
instead. We were delighted at this, be- 
cause we thought it would be so easy ; but 

we were vastly mistaken. Uncle would not allow 

us to repeat a word, or put in one unnecessarily ; 

and we have discovered that we can write much 

more accurately than we can talk. 

I took my story from an old book which uncle 

brought from Europe ; and it is so striking, that I 

will write it out. 



'' THE count's leap. 

*' Eberhard II., Count of Wurtemberg, was strong 
and brave, but also ambitious and obstinate to the 

96 



THE HOLE IN THE TABLE-CLOTH. 97 

last degree. He had two children, named Ulric 
and Lida, whom he loved very much, but whom he 
treated as harshly as if he did not care for them 
at all, 

"Ulric was fearless and skilful, but he was once 
compelled to retreat from the battle-field by the 
overwhelming numbers of the enemy. His father 
received him with bitter words, and in his rage cut 
the cloth in front of his seat at table, as a sign 
that he had not won his bread. Ulric felt this 
deeply, and the next time he met the enemy he 
fought with desperation, and fell dead in the mo- 
ment of victory. When his corpse was carried to 
his father, he shut himself up in his tent and wept 
like a tender mother. 

" After this sorrow, one would think that Eber- 
hard would have been gentle and indulgent to 
Lida, but this was not the case. She was engaged 
to Count Wolf, Ulric's dearest friend, who loved 
her, and whom she loved in return ; but when Ulric 
was no longer there to plead her cause, her father 
commanded her to break her promise to Wolf and 
to marry Conrad, his heir. In vain were the 
knight's prayers and Lida's tears. Eberhard would 
not yield, but betrothed his daughter to his favor- 
ite with great splendor. 

" In honor of the event, he held a tournament at 
the gates of Wildbad. Both ends of the lists — 
or place for the combat — were closed by gates, 
beyond which, to .the north, were the tents of the 
knights who offered to tilt with all comers. At 
7 



98 TME TWO SICILIES. 

the door of each tent hung the owner's shield, and 
beside it stood his esquire, dressed either in curi- 
ous fancy garments, or more simply and modestly 
in the colors of his master. The centre pavilion, 
which glittered with silk and gold, was given to 
Conrad as the hero of the day. At the opposite 
end were assembled such knights as proposed to 
tilt with the occupants of the tents, while along 
the sides were raised galleries for the better class 
of spectators. In the middle of that to the right 
was a higher gallery, surrounded by gilded railings 
and covered with a canopy of crimson velvet for 
Count Eberhard, his family and personal friends ; 
and there Lida was compelled to sit with a heavy 
heart to witness the festivities. 

''At a signal given by Eberhard, the gaily 
dressed heralds proclaimed the laws of the tourna- 
ment, which they followed by cries of ' Largesse I 
largesse ! ' They were answered by a shower of 
gold and silver pieces, which they greeted with 
shouts of ' Honor to the generous I Love of la- 
dies ! Fame to the valiant ! ' and the like ; while 
the lower classes of the spectators applauded 
loudly, and the trumpeters blew their liveliest 
notes. After this the gates were opened, and the 
challengers rode across the lists to the tents of the 
knights, where each struck with his lance the 
shield of him with whom he desired to tilt. 

*' First among them, appeared a chevalier in 
black armor, without any device, and with his 
visor closed so that no one could see his face. 



THE COUNT'S LEAP. 99 

He moved slowly and steadily forward, and 
touched the shield of Conrad. Almost every per- 
son present thought that this unknown warrior 
was Count Wolf; but Eberhard, measuring with 
his eye the tall and slender figure before him, be- 
lieved that he saw the shade of Ulric returned to 
support the cause of his beloved friend, and com- 
pel the fulfilment of his promise. He threw him- 
self from his seat with groans and shrieks, and, 
amidst the confusion thus occasioned, the black 
knight disappeared. 

'' In his despair. Wolf joined the enemies of 
Eberhard, hoping to force from him his daughter, 
but he was unfortunate. He was abandoned by 
his allies and vassals, his castle was burned, his 
city was plundered, and he was declared an out- 
law. In this sad condition he was obliged to 
take refuge with a kinsman at Ebernstein, and 
when he dismounted at the gate a thief stole his 
horse and cloak, leaving him with nothing but the 
garments which he wore and the armor in which 
lie had fought. 

'' The robber took the horse — whose name was 
Tador, and who was remarkable for strength and 
beauty — to Count Eberhard, who bought him at a 
high price, and finding him as gentle as he was 
handsome, ordered his daughter to ride him to 
church the next day, which was that appointed 
for her marriage with Conrad. When she had 
mounted him, everybody regarded her with ad- 
miration, for she was one of the loveliest maidens 



100 THE TWO SICILIES. 

of the time, and her long, white veil, fastened with 
a myrtle crown, fell round her like soft mist, and 
made her look like an angel. 

" The procession had just started from the 
palace, when Tador threw up his head, snuffed the 
air, and then, breaking through the crowd, set off at 
his best pace for Ebernstein. Nothing could stop 
him, and at the very moment when Wolf was 
bewailing his loss with his kinsman, he came thun- 
dering over the drawbridge into the courtyard. 

'' Wolf stood a moment, too much astonished to 
move or speak, for there was Tador, covered with 
foam, and clinging to his mane — her veil torn into 
shreds, her myrtle crown broken, and her long 
locks falling in disorder about her shoulders — was 
his own dear Lida. But he quickly recovered 
himself, and begged his kinsman to permit his 
chaplain to marry them. The selfish, calculating 
Henry replied that no marriage could take place 
in his chapel without the consent of the relatives 
on both sides. 

'' ' At least promise me that you will not give up 
Lida,' implored Wolf. 

'' ' I shall certainly restore her to her father,' 
answered Henry coldly. 

'''Lida,' asked Wolf tenderly, 'will you seek 
with me a priest to marry us ? ' 

" ' It is my only wish,' replied Lida. 

"Then Wolf sprang upon Tador's back, swung 
his betrothed lightly up before him, and rushed 
from the castle. 



THE COUNTS LEAP. 101 

" Meantime, the soldiers of Eberhard had traced 
Tador by the marks of his hoofs and bits of the 
torn veil which remained on the bushes by his 
route, and had stationed themselves near Ebern- 
stein, so as to cut off every chance of escape. 
Only one path remained unguarded, a frightful 
track up a rocky hill leading to a high cliff which 
overhung a boiling whirlpool. 

" Wolf saw that there was no hope. ' Lida,' he 
asked, ' do you wish to die with me ? ' 

*' ' From my inmost heart,' she answered, and 
wound her arms more closely about his neck, while 
he bent over and kissed her white lips. 

'' Then Wolf drove his spurs deep into Tador's 
sides, who sprang forward with great leaps up 
the dangerous steep. At this sight, the officers 
and men of the opposing party shrieked , with 
terror, and amidst their cries of fear and horror 
the horse and his rider disappeared over the cliff. 

'' There was a moment's silence, then Eberhard 
pushed forward and looked down. The whirlpool 
had drawn the body of his daughter out of sight, 
while it had thrown those of Wolf and his faithful 
war-horse back upon the shore. While the count 
still watched the whirl, and listened to the roar of 
the waters, he fancied that he saw the figure of his 
son as it appeared at the tournament, in black 
armor, without a device, and with his visor down, 
so that no one could see his face. He shuddered 
violently,, for he knew then that he had killed both 
of his children through his wicked ambition and 
his haughty pride.'' 



102 , THE TWO SICILIES. 

After the stories, came our lesson, which began 
with a description of 

SOKEENTO. 

" This city,'' said uncle, " is admirably situated 
on a precipice jutting* into the sea. Upon three 
sides there is a deep gorge like the ditch of 
a fortress. In a colder climate, this gorge would 
be a gloomy, shivery place ; but under the Italian 
sun, which appears to have a magical gift for 
brightening and warming the darkest nook, it 
clothes itself with countless lovely blooms. It is a 
delightful spot for a ramble in the daytime ; but in 
the twilight, I must confess that the shadows 
gather too swiftly and deeply for pleasure. The 
peasants believe it to be haunted by goblins, 
which they call monacielli, and which they try to 
frighten away at night by placing lamps in little 
oratories built in rifts in the rock. The people of 
Sorrento, like the Neapolitans, love an out-of-door 
life. The women sit in the sun while they spin on 
their distaffs and talk over their housekeeping ; 
and girls with large black eyes, dark glossy hair, 
and great pearl ear-rings, flirt and laugh with their 
lovers on the picturesque old bridge." 

" Sorrento, Sorrento,'' repeated Thornie, slowly 
and thoughtfully, as if trying to think of something 
which had escaped his memory. " Why, uncle, a 
great writer was born there, but I cannot remem- 
ber his name." 

" It was 



TORQUATO TASSO, 



103 



TORQUATO TASSO. 







HIS poet, at the age of sev- 
enteen, received through- 
out Italy the pet name of 
Tassino, or the ' Dear Little 
Tasso/ '' 

'^ Oh, what a charming, 
charming compliment I ^' 
cried Maggie. '' I would 
rather have had that one, 
than all the rest that were 
paid him, and I suppose he had a great many.'^ 

" More than one could easily,. count, I fancy ; 
but he is as celebrated for his misfortunes as for 
his verses. None of them occurred at Sorrento, 
however, and among the few happy days of his 
manhood must be reckoned those which he spent 
there with his sister Cornelia. He was then 
thirty-three years old, very famous, but also very 
wretched. ^^ 

'' What made him wretched ? " asked Maggie. 
^' Just that petty fault-finding, those slights, 
those accusations, and interferences, which a sen- 
sitive person is least able to bear. He was in the 
service of Alfonso, Duke of Ferrara ; and some of 
tbe courtiers, who were jealous and envious of the 
favor in which he was held by the duke's sister, 
— the beautiful and accomplished Eleanora, — said 
all manner of false and unkind things about him. 



104 THE TWO SICILIES. 

They opened his private desk, and read his letters 
and papers ; they pretended he was a heretic ; 
and they appear to have made the duke hate him 
as much as they did themselves. Then bigoted 
priests — who knew no more about poetry than 
the man in the moon — meddled with the magnifi- 
cent poem which has made his name immortal ; 
and parts of it were copied without his knowledge, 
and were published with vexatious errors in sev- 
eral Italian cities/' 

" How mean ! I should just like to fight the 
whole worthless set ! " exclaimed Thornie. 

"The treatment which he received was mean 
and cruel, and drove poor Tasso almost frantic. 
In his distress, he remembered his sister Cornelia, 
who was then a widow, and living with her two 
pretty children in their old home at Sorrento. He 
had not seen her since he was a boy. He had 
been so ambitious, so full of splendid plans for 
making himself famous, — for winning money and 
honors while alive, and a place in the memory of 
men after death, — that he had had no time to spend 
in giving her pleasure. But now the world went 
wrong with him; and he was glad to go back in 
thought to his far-away childhood, which smiled at 
him with its peaceful eyes. How they two — him- 
self and the little Cornelia — used to look up at the 
brown statue of St. Antonio, over the ancient gate- 
way, and tell each other how the sturdy old fellow 
drove away the Prince of Beneventura, when he 
marched against the town, with good sound blows 



TORQUATO TASSO. 105 

from his heavy cudgel I How they chuckled over 
the saint's righteous wrath, and how they made up 
a little drama in which he was father Antonio, and 
Cornelia was the beaten prince ! Then, how they 
played at housekeeping, upon which occasions 
Cornelia stole nurse's distaff, and tangled her 
shining flax, — how they served up banquets in 
the garden, and put their oranges and figs on 
broad leaves instead of dishes, — how they burned 
their fingers trying to roast chestnuts, — and how 
they peeped over the gorge to show their courage, 
at the risk of breaking their necks ! Tasso wished 
he had broken his, so that he could have gone 
home to the good God, and escaped so much 
misery. He longed, yet dreaded, to go back. He 
wanted the old companionship, the sweet confi- 
dence, the tender care ; but he was afraid Corne- 
lia might resent his neglect of her, and speak 
harsh, cold words. He had been harassed and 
worried in so many ways that his poor, bruised 
heart could not bear an added pang. So he 
resolved to awaken her sympathy before he dis- 
covered himself; and he stopped outside of the 
city, and changed garments with a shepherd, 
when he introduced himself as a messenger sent to 
tell her of her brother's ill-fortune. Cornelia was 
as affectionate as she was beautiful ; and she had 
never permitted herself to think that she had any 
cause for complaint. She listened eagerly to the 
seeming stranger, until, overcome by sorrow, she 
fainted away. 



106 TEE TWO SICILIES. 

^' Poor Tasso did not mean to give her such a 
shock, — he had not, indeed, supposed she would 
feel as much, — but he was delighted to find him- 
self held in such loving remembrance. He re- 
mained a year in Sorrento, where he regained his 
health and half forgot his calamities/' 

" What a dear, good sister she was I '^ ex- 
claimed Maggie. 

'' Yes ; she appears to have borne without a 
murmur her brother's neglect during his pros- 
perity, and to have proved a tender and judicious 
friend in his adversity." 

"Uncle, was he unfortunate after that visit?" 
asked Thornie. 

'' Yes, extremely so. He was imprisoned in a 
mad-house for seven years by Alfonso, who re- 
leased him at last only because he was so ill that 
it was impossible for him to recover where he then 
was." 

''How dared Alfonso do such a thing ? " asked 
Thornie. 

" Those petty Italian despots dared do anything 
they chose to do," answered uncle ; " but why he 
desirad to do this, is not and cannot be certainly 
known. The sympathy of the world is and always 
will be with Tasso, and one can scarcely think 
calmly of his wrongs." 

" Did he get well after he went out of that fear- 
ful place ? " 

" Yes, he recovered, and he wrote much and 
well afterward ; but nothing equal to the ' Jeru- 



CALABRIA. lot 

salem Conquered/ which he had composed pre- 
viously, and which is one of the noblest poems of 
modern times.'' 

"Where did you go next, after you left Sor- 
rento, uncle ? " 

" I do not remember where I went next ; but I 
made some pleasant excursions into 

" CALABRIA. 

" Calabria occupies the toe of the boot to which 
Italy has been compared. The national dress for 
the male peasantry consists of a long, hanging 
cap, a velvet jacket and breeches, with three but- 
tons unfastened at the knees, over which fall white 
frills. Many wear high, pointed hats, like the 
brigands in pictures, with rows of velvet festooned 
round them, gaiters, and goat-skin sandals. The 
peasant women wear white head-dresses, square at 
the top, and flowing behind ; bodices laced and 
trimmed with colored ribbons, red under skirts, and 
scarfs gayly striped. When at work in the fields, 
they wear a petticoat nearly tight, with a blue 
over-skirt, open in front, which they knot behind, 
for convenience. Their stockings have no feet, 
and shoes are rare." 

" Oh, hideous ! " exclaimed Thornie. 

'' Not exactly after Miss Annie Mowbray's 
stjde, I grant," answered uncle, archly ; '' but 
convenient for work, nevertheless." 

Now, Miss Mowbray happened to be Thornie's 
admiration just then, so I saw a good deal of her ; 



108 THE TWO SICILIES. 

and when I mentally contrasted the peasant scanti- 
ness of attire with her great hoop and ruffled skirts, 
her flowing sleeves, and falling laces, and the rib- 
bons fluttering from every point on which she 
could hang them, I laughed aloud. Thornie col- 
ored, and to change the subject, I asked, " What 
did you find at the inns, uncle ? ^' 

" Let me try to recollect. Nothing distinctive, 
that I think of, except perhaps custards made 
with buffalo's milk ; but I remember that one of 
my landladies was in mourning, and wore a head- 
dress of black gauze, folded like the white ones ; 
that the maid swept the floor with a broom of 
foxes' tails ; and that a peasant played upon a 
rustic pipe, holding sometimes two, sometimes 
three of the small reeds to his lips at once.'' 

" I don't see how he could do it," said Thornie. 
" I should think it must be extremely difficult." 

" It appeared to me so at the moment, which was 
the reason why I remember it." 

'' How do the peasant girls fill up their time ? " 

*' Sometimes they gather bergamots, or green- 
colored oranges, which they carry in baskets to 
the press, — a round machine, with brass divi- 
sions. This machine turns round forty times, when 
it rings a bell ; and the fruit is taken out un- 
broken, but without the oil of the rind, which has 
passed into a vessel beneath. This, when dis- 
tilled, furnishes the perfume of our shops. I used 
to dislike the smell of bergamot extremely ; but 
now I do not find it offensive, because it reminds 



APULIA. 109 

me of the warm skies and lovely orchards of 
youthern Italy, and the merry boys and girls 
moving to and fro, and joking, singing, laughing, 
and dancing with the greatest zest." 

*'Do they have travelling flocks and herds, like 
the Swiss ? I mean, are there such in Apulia ? " 
asked Thornie. 

"Yes; the province of Apulia is distinguished 
by a vast treeless plain, dry in summer, but in 
winter clothed with thick, green herbage. This is 
the grazing ground for great numbers of sheep and 
cattle, which come from Abruzzo, for the cold 
season. When the flocks are on the march, one 
shepherd heads each division. He walks some 
steps in advance, crook in hand. He is followed 
by an old ram called 'The instructed,^ which wears 
a large deep-toned bell. Beautiful dogs, for the 
most part white, walk at the head, sides, and rear 
of each group. A few goats, usually black, follow 
the sheep. Mules finish the procession, bearing 
nets and poles for penning the animals at night> 
the utensils for the dairy, the tents and clothing 
of the shepherds, with jointed seats, curiously 
made from the stems of the gigantic fennel. The 
cows and horses travel separately.'^ 

''Those seats must look a little like the baby- 
house chairs that Bessie makes out of rushes, '^ 
said Thornie. " I should not think they would be 
very strong. But where do the herds go in sum- 
mer ? '^ 

*' To the mountains. A portion of them reach 
the highest station on St. Peter's day, the 29th of 



110 . TEE TWO SICILIES. 

June. By the time the districts have been marked 
out, and other necessary arrangements have been 
made, it is nearly sundown. The vesper service 
is' sung, a benediction is " pronounced, and the 
herdsmen sit down to a grand supper, provided by 
the owners of the land. It consists of sheep and 
kids roasted whole, oxen cooked in quarters on 
spits made of small pine-trees, bread, and wine 
cooled in the snow-pits. For dessert, there are 
wild strawberries, and various dishes from milk." 

" What a pleasant festival ! I should like to 
see the supper in preparation," said Maggie. 

" And I should like to see the people eat it," 
said Thornie. " It would be worth while to see so 
many happy faces." 

" How do the women of the Abruzzo dress, 
uncle ? " I asked. 

" The true peasant dress for them is a dark blue 
bodice, with sleeves of the same, fastened at the 
shoulder with bows of ribbon, a petticoat of any 
colored cloth, plaited in small plaits, and a head-^ 
dress made of a long strip of white cambric or 
muslin, trimmed with a border of coarse thread 
lace." 

" Are you almost through, uncle ? " asked Bes- 
sie, softly opening the library-door, and peeping in. 

'' Quite through, little niece." 

" Oh, I'm so glad," said Bessie ; '' for, uncle, I 
want you to fix the swing. One knot is loose, and 
Mrs. Sharp says I mustn't swing again till you fix 
it." 



CHAPTER VI. 



THE CHEKKTPAETT — KATE'S VERSES — FABLES ABOUT SICILT — THE STOEM AT SEA 
— THE SHIPfl'EECKED SAILOE — KIKT)]S^ESS OF THE SICILIANS — THEOCLES' EE- 
TtJEN TO CHALCIS — PROPOSAL TO COLOITIZE SICILY — CONSULTATION" OF THE 
OEACLE — EEPLT OP THE ORACLE — PEEPAKATIO]S^S FOR DEPARTURE — THE TEM- 
PLE SERVICE- THE DEPARTURE OF THE nOIIGEANTS — AEEIVAL UT SICILY — 
ALTAR OX MT. TAUEUS — DIO^^rSIUS I. — DIONYSIUS SEEKS A WIFE— THE DOUBLE 
MARRIAGE OF DIOlfYSIUS — GAMES OF THE BOYS — CONQUEST OF EEGGIO — 
SICILY COXQUEEED BY THE ROMANS — ARCHIMEDES — EUREKA — THE GOLD 
CROAVN — EFFORTS OF ARCHIMEDES FOR THE DEFENCE OF SYRACUSE — THE 
irUEDEE OF AECHIMEDES — AFTEE-FOETUNE OF SICILY — SOUTHERN ITALY — 
WICKED TRICK OF A GREEK COLOIfY — SYBAEIS — SYBARITES — SMINDYEIDES 
AND HIS WOOING — THE STOLEN BRIDE — DISAPPOINTMENT OF EUPHEMIUS — 
EEVENGE OF EUPHEMIUS — CONQUEST OF SICILY BY THE SARACENS — THB 
LITTLE CHRISTIAN AND THE GENEROUS SARACEN. 



ESTERDAY the whole family went to 
Hazlewood — Mr. Thornton's place — to 
a cherry party. We had a grand time. 
There were at least fifty guests, fathers 
_ and mothers, and young people, and little 
children. We ran races, and leaped the 
brook, and played sly little tricks on each other, 
which made a great deal of fun, because these 
tricks were all pleasant ones. When we were 
tired of picking cherries and playing games .and 
getting up tricks, we went to a tent, which was 
gay with streamers, and decorated with ever- 
.greens and flowers. There we found more cherries 
and other fruit, sandwiches, cold chickens, cake, 

111 




112 THE TWO SICILIES. 

milk, coffee, and lemonade. We drank toasts and 
sang songs, and wound up with a neat little speech 
from uncle, which expressed in the prettiest of 
pretty ways our thanks for the entertainment, and 
the pleasure which we had received from the visit. 
On the way home, uncle told me that I must 
write some verses about the party, for this week's 
composition. I wrote them this morning," and will 
copy them here : 

THE CHERRY ' PARTY. 

Cherry-trees, cherry-trees here and there, 
Cherry-trees, cherry-trees everywhere, 
With their fluttering leaves and their ruby crown. 
And their shining stems of black and brown. 

Cherry-trees, cherry-trees here and there, 
Cherry-trees, cherry-trees everywhere ; 
Bees rifle their sweets in the happy spring, 
And with songs of birds they in summer ring. 

The cedar-bird comes with his shaded breast. 
His sparkling eyes, and his pert little crest ; 
Hither and thither the sparrows flit; 
And here comes the robin and little tomtit. 

Next follow fruit-lovers, both young and old, 
Maggie the lovely^ and Thornie the bold, 
Uncle Paul and Aunt Mary, and dear little Bess, 
Mr. Thornton, wife Laura, and all of the rest. 

The whole afternoon of a midsummer's day 
We fill with our laughter, our songs, and our play 5 
And when next this festa the cherry-trees see, 
A guest I most certainly hope to be. 



THE SHIPWRECKED SAILOR. 113 

The lesson for to-day commenced with the story 



of 



THE SHIPWRECKED SAILOR. 



" The history of Sicily," said uncle, ''begins far, 
far away back in the age of fable, which is so 
named, because, as nothing is certainly known 
about what happened at that time, poets have in- 
vented for it the most wonderful tales. They pre- 
tend that Zeus reigned on Mount Etna ; that its 
flames (you will remember that the mountain is a 
volcano) were his breath ; and that when he 
turned in his bed the island shook as with an 
earthquake." 

"I hope he slept quietly, and was not troubled 
with bad dreams," said Thornie. 

" In the forges in the mountains Hephaestus 
wrought the thunder, and from its flowery base 
the beautiful Persephone was carried off by Pluto, 
to his gloomy underground kingdom." 

'* I have read all about that theft, in Haw- 
thorne's charming ' Tanglewood Tales,' " exclaimed 
Maggie. " Pluto came up through the earth with 
his black horses and handsome chariot, and carried 
off Persephone, when her mother was away on 
business. That was mean." 

" But the story is pretty," said Thornie. 

*' The true history of Sicily begins much like 
those old fables, with ' Once upon a time,' " said 
uncle. 

" Once upon a time, probably about T25, B. 0., 
8 



114 THE TWO SICILIES. 

the little vessel Naupactus moved at a snaiPs 
pace within sight of the south-western shore of 
Calabria. It was a sultry afternoon, and although 
the crew worked hard at the oars, they could 
scarcely get forward at all. Suddenly Theocles, the 
captain, shouted, ' The Euroclydon ! The Euroc- 
lydon I ' and sure enough, a long white cloud shot 
along the sea, as if to give warning of the coming 
storm. In a few minutes, the ship was tossing 
like a feather. Now she was mountain high on 
the top of the great billows, and again she was 
plunged in their yawning depths. The sky grew 
black. Neither moon nor stars were out to show 
the sailors whither they were driving. Soon they 
heard the terrible sound of the breakers, and 
caught sight of their white caps. A cry of despair 
went up from all on board, — ' We are lost I We 
are lost ! ' They no longer tried to guide their 
vessel, but, deafened by the roar of the tempest 
and blinded by the salt spray, they clung to its 
sides, and with prayers and vows called upon 
Poseidon to save them. Presently the Sicilian 
coast became visible. The slight bark drew 
nearer and nearer to it, caught on the reef, and 
went to pieces. There was one shriek, and then 
the furious sea closed over all but Theocles, who 
was swept by a huge billow high upon the rocks. 

^'The poor fellow had thrown off his himation, or 
upper garment, before the vessel struck ; and he 
had no clothing except his chiton, a woollen shirt 
without sleeves. Cold, hungry and thirsty, with 



PROPOSAL TO COLONIZE SICILY. 115 

aching limbs as well as an aching heart, he sat 
upon a rock wondering what he had better do, 
t^hen some natives went down to the beach to col- 
lect the star-fish which they supposed would be 
thrown up by the storm. They welcomed the 
stranger, took him to their huts, and gave him a 
feast of chestnuts, pine seeds, Indian figs, milk, 
and boiled star-fish ; which latter was not a dainty 
morsel since it resembled gristle covered with 
slime. Theocles stayed with them many weeks, 
making himself useful in such ways as he was able, 
and thus winning the confidence of the tribe. By 
and by, his hosts helped him to build a new boat, 
and some of them consented to go with him to his 
home in the Greek city of Chalcis. 

^' His arrival threw the whole town into (commo- 
tion. For several days he was really besieged by 
the crowds who came to hear the story of his ship- 
wreck, and to learn something about that distant 
country which he had visited so unwillingly. 

'' Soon a lucky thought occurred to the city 
fathers. ' Would it not be well,' they asked, ' to 
send a colony to the island ? Colonies increase 
the commerce of the mother country and afford 
aid in times of need. Many young men, also, who 
are mischievous and troublesome at home because 
they have nothing to do, make useful and even 
heroic citizens in new settlements, with dangers 
and difficulties to meet and overcome.' 

" The city fathers were right, but they could do 
nothing before consulting Apollo, the god of 



116 THE TWO SICILIES. 

prophecy. Messengers were, therefore, despatched 
with rich gifts to Delphi, the seat of his most 
famous oracle, to inquire if a colony should set 
out from Chalcis for Sicily. They returned with 
an answer which might be read either way. It 
was not unlike this : — ' Soft winds blow over the 
western island, kissing the laurel that Apollo 
loves, and the fir-wood whereon are laid the per- 
fumes and sacrifices. Stormy waters and rain- 
bearing clouds lie between.' 

" It gave rise to a great dispute at Chalcis. 
The restless and adventurous declared that it was 
a direct encouragement to seek the laurel and fir- 
wood, and make offerings with them to the god; 
but timid mothers and sisters heard in it only 
a warning against the stormy waters and rain- 
bearing clouds. As is usual upon such occasions, 
the courageous and energetic carried the day, 
and preparations for the voyage were commenced 
on every side. 

*' The vessels were easily made ready. They 
were merely large boats, moved by oars for the 
most part, but furnished with sails for use in a fair 
wind. Each one had a name which was painted 
on the prow, and each had a flag or ensign. Each, 
also, bore at its stern a statue of Apollo hung 
with laurel wreaths and set round with branches 
of fir. They were carefully purified by the sprink- 
ling of consecrated water, and were solemnly 
placed under the protection of the god. They 
were stored with salt meat, fish, cakes of barley 



THE TEMPLE SEE VICE, 117 

and wheat, cheese, olives, onions, wine and honey. 
Some tools, also, were put on board, and some arms, 
which might be wanted in time. The latter con- 
sisted of leather helmets adorned with crests of 
hair or feathers, breast-plates either of brass or 
leather, brass greaves or armor for the legs, shields 
of bull's hide, ashen spears of different lengths, 
bows and arrows, javelins and slings. Carefully, 
too, and with many ceremonies, a pan containing 
a fire lighted at the altar of Hestia, the sweet god- 
dess of the hearth, was borne to the ship of the 
commander Theocles. 

'' At last all was ready and the emigrants and 
their friends went to pray together once more to 
Zeus, bearing simple offerings of wine, and cakes 
made in the form of animals. As the procession 
passed into the portico of the temple, the priests 
advanced to the altar, and one among them said in 
a loud voice, 'Let us make libations and let us 
pray.' 

"A second priest asked, 'Who are these now 
gathered together ? ' 

" ' Honest men,' was the almost whispered 
answer of the sad worshippers. 

" ' Be silent, then,' was the reply. 

" Soon flames shot up from the altar and de- 
voured the spicy cakes, when wine was poured on 
them from silver vases. Heartfelt petitions for the 
safety and success of the emigrants were offered, 
and a band of youths filled the splendid building 
with the sweet sound of their chanted hymns. 



118 THE TWO SICILIES. 

" Many a regretful glance was cast at the city, 
many an eye sought a familiar roof or lingered, 
tenderly upon a dear face in the crowd upon the 
quay. But the farewells were not prolonged, for 
Theocles, impatient at the awkwardness of his crew, 
angrily thundered his orders, now shouting for 
some of the sailors to put out their boat-hooks and 
keep the vessels off the piers, and now calling to 
the oarsmen, who were vainly trying to pull all 
together. 

" The emigrants had a successful voyage and 
landed in Sicily near the hill Taurus, upon whose 
green summit they immediately began to build an 
altar to Apollo. It was evening when the simple 
pile of earth and sods was completed and the 
wood was placed in order. The moonbeams lay 
on the dewy grass, silvered the olive-trees, and 
tipped the waves which chased each other inland 
to the wide, smooth beach. The soft breeze was 
full of fragrance, and the deep sea music mingled 
with the leaf-whispers and the rustle of gently 
swaying boughs. A brand, lighted at the sacred 
fire of Hestia which had been kept through the 
voyage, kindled the sacrificial flames ; and oil, in- 
cense and wine, were poured out to Apollo 
amidst heartfelt thanksgivings. 

" The Sicilian Greeks advanced rapidly as long 
its they were just to each other ; but after a time, 
the strong began to prey upon the weak, and pop- 
ular leaders by cunning management made them- 
selves kings or tyrants, as they were very properly 
called/' 



DIONYSIUS SEEKS A WIFE. 119 

*' What a pity/' said Thornie. " They might 
have lived so nicely and pleasantly in the beauti- 
ful island." 

"The change was brought about by wicked 
selfishness and violence/' said uncle ; " and thou- 
sands of people suffered and died to gratify the 
greed and ambition of a few. 

" DIONYSIUS I. 

was one of these tyrants. He was an able but 
fearfully wicked man ; and by a long course of de- 
ceit and murder he raised himself to the sover- 
eignty of Syracuse. 

" As soon as he was fairly established in power, 
he began to look about for a wife. First, he sent 
an embassy to Reggio to request one from thence. 
An assembly was called, therefore, to consider the 
proposal, with the promises which accompanied it. 
But the members were indignant at the perfidy and 
cruelty of the king, and cared very little for his 
wealth. They spoke of him contemptuously as 
well as bitterly, and one said, ' The daughter of 
the public executioner is the only fitting bride for 
so merciless a despot.' 

" The envoys repeated these words to their 
master, who treasured them in his memory until 
he should have an opportunity to revenge them. 
Meantime, he made the same offers to Locri 
which he had made to Reggio ; and especially 
solicited Aristides, a companion of Plato, to give 
him his daughter. ' I would rather see her dead,' 



120 



THE TWO SICILIES. 



replied Aristides, ' than united to a^ tyrant.' But 
Xenetns, more ambitious and less scrupulous, de- 
sired the alliance and offered his daughter 
Doris. 

" Very soon Doris sailed for Syracuse in a new 
vessel decorated with festive splendor, and spa'V 
ling all over with ornaments of silver and gold. 




BOEIS CKOSSIXG TO SYRACUSE. 



'' Flowers carpeted the deck, choice wreaths 
lined the sides of the vessel, and the lowers in 



^i^3 



GAMES OF THE BOYS. 121 

glittering uniforms dif)ped their gilded oars to the 
music of flutes and lyres. 

'' On the same day that Doris arrived from Locri, 
a second bride — Aristomache of Syracuse — was 
conveyed to the palace. Her robe was of blue 
Milesian wool overshot with threads of silver, and 
was confined at the shoulders with exquisitely cut 
cameos. Over this was a tunic of the thinnest 
gauze, fastened at the throat with a collar of peai4s. 
A wreath of poppies and sesamum crowned the 
braids of. her glossy hair, and a veil of gold and 
silver tissue fell to her feet in dazzling waves. 
The windows, doors, and housetops along the 
streets through which she passed were crowded 
with spectators, who showered her with blossoms, 
and whose shouts mingled with the merry music 
of the great band of players and singers who pre- 
ceded and followed her chariot.'^ 

" To think of the monster marrying two wives ! " 
exclaimed Maggie. 

'* The ancient Greeks did not usually have more 
than one wife at a time, but Dionysius considered 
himself at liberty to do as he pleased. He cele- 
brated his double wedding with banquets ; theatri- 
cal exhibitions ; horse, chariot and foot races ; 
poetic contests, musical performances, cock-fights, 
and wrestling and boxing matches. '^ 

''And what fun did the boys have, uncle?'' 
asked Thornie. 

" They played at odd-or-even for almonds, 
drove bronze hoops jingling with little bells, 



122 TEE TWO SICILIES. 

shouted over the game of • hot cockles, skipped 
oyster shells on the water, and got out of breath 
running after each other in blindman's buff.'^ 

^'I didn't think that any of our plays were so 
old,^' said Thornie. 

'' Some of them are decidedly venerable as far 
as age is concerned,'' replied uncle. " But this 
double marriage brought something beside games 
after it. By and by, Dionysius resolved to reward 
Locri for giving and to punish Reggio for refusing 
him a wife. He marched against the Rhegines 
with so large a force that they saw it was useless 
to fight against him. and begged that he would 
grant them moderate terms." 

" ' Surrender to me all your ships of war, pay 
me three hundred and thirty-seven thousand five 
hundred dollars, and place in my hands a hundred 
hostages, and I will leave you in peace,' replied 
the tyrant. 

" These hard Conditions were strictly complied 
with, and Dionysius pretended to be busily en- 
gaged in preparing to cross to his capital. He 
requested the Rhegines to supply him with provi-> 
sions for a short time, promising to replace them 
from Sicily. They did so cheerfully ; but finding 
he did not mean to leave Italy, they suspected 
treachery and refused to continue the loan. He 
then sent back the hostages, and laid si-ege to the 
city. Bitterly did the citizens mourn their vea- 
sels, seventy in number, and the corn, wine and 
oil of which they had permitted themselves to be 



COXQUJ^ST OF BEG 010. 123 

robbed ; but they did not despair. The whole popu- 
lation armed. A careful watch was kept along the 
wall, and no chance for surprise was given the 
enemy. Dionysius soon found that starvation alone 
would compel a surrender ; so he drew his lines 
closely together, and permitted no human being to 
pass in or out. For eleven months the Rhegines 
starved and died within the walls. For eleven 
months Dionysius and his army waited without. 
Then the gates were opened to the tyrant, who en- 
tered in triumph. There was the citadel, but no sol- 
dier kept guard upon its towers. There were the 
temples, but no priest burned incense on their altars. 
There were the stately palaces, but no footstep 
echoed in their halls. Everywhere, in chamber, 
and court, and portico, lay the dead bodies of 
parents, brothers, sisters, old and young, rich and 
poor, which the feeble survivors were too weak to 
bury. Six thousand citizens just ready to perish 
crept through the streets begging for food, almost 
all of whom were sold into slavery. The great 
city, with its splendid buildings and fine territory, 
was given by Dionysius as a marriage present to 
Locri.^' 

"He was mean!'' exclaimed Thornie. ''He 
wasn't fair I He was a cheat and a liar ! Don't 
tell us any more about him, uncle." 

" What happened to the island after it was split 
up among those monsters, uncle ? " 

" Just what was to have been expected, Kate. 
When the great mass of the people were broken 



124 THE TWO SICILIES. 

down by slavery, Marcellus, a brilliant general, 
conquered Sicily for the Romans." 

^' Were they as cruel as the Carthag-inians 
were?" 

*' Not quite, perhaps, but they did not fall far 
behind those savage victors. They destroyed 
thousands and thousands of happy families, and 
sold lovely and accomplished women, and beauti- 
ful little children, for slaves, to the very men who 
had killed their true-hearted husbands and fathers. 
It was in the sack of Syracuse that the most 
famous of ancient mathematicians and mechani- 
cians lost his life." 

*' What was his name, uncle ? " asked Thornie. 

" His name was 

'' ARCHIMEDES, 

and he was born in Syracuse about two hundred 
and eighty-seven years before Christ." 

" Oh, I remember about him now," said Thor- 
nie. " He was the old fellow who leaped out of 
the bath and ran home shouting Eureka! Eu- 
reka! " 

'' Old fellow," repeated Maggie, reproachfully. 
" You are not very respectful, I think." 

" But you wouldn't have me call him the old 
gent., I suppose," returned Thornie, laughing 
heartily. 

" Of course not ; ' gent.' is vulgar." 

" So I imagine. Forgive me, and I will begin 
properly. King Hiero bought a crown, which by 



AnCHIMEDES. 125 

the terms of the bargain should have been cf solid 
gold, but which he suspected had some silver in it. 
So he asked Archimedes to find out the truth. At 
first Archimedes did not know how to do this, and 
he was thinking very busily about it when he en- 
tered the bath. The tub happened to be full, and 
of course the water ran over the edge to just the ex- 
tent of the space which his body occupied. When 
he saw this, it occurred to him that he could 
determine the bulk of the crown by putting it into 
water, and so learn whether it were all gold or 
were part silver ; ana he was so overjoyed that 
he forgot everything else, and ran home, undressed 
as he was, to make the experiment/' 

"But I do not see now how he- was to learn 
about the purity of the crown," said Maggie. 

'' Silver is lighter than gold," replied uncle, 
"and therefore if the crown contained silver 
it would be larger than one of pure gold of the 
same weight. Archimedes could first try a piece 
of gold of the same weight as the crown, and 
then the crown itself. If the latter should dis- 
place more water than the former, it could not be 
solid gold." 

" That was ingenious," said Thornie. 

"Yes," answered uncle; "it is not surprising 
that his whole mind should have been occupied 
with the discovery. 

" When Syracuse was besieged by Marcellus, 
Archimedes exerted his utmost skill in its defence. 
He burned some of the Roman ships by means of 



126 T3E TWO SICILIES. 

the sun'p rays, and others he either upset or filled 
with water by means of machinery. His inven- 
tions worked equally well upon the land side, and the 
Roman soldiers were so much alarmed by this new 
kind of warfare that if as much as a stick or rope 
were seen hanging from the walls they ran away 
crying, ' Archimedes I Archimedes I ^ Marcellus, 
however, obtained through treachery what he 
could not obtain by arms. A Spaniard opened one 
of the gates by night and admitted him to the city. 
Every house was sacked, every temple was robbed, 
every statue of value was <?arried away. Great 
numbers of persons were cruelly butchered. All 
the provisions were seized, so that the choice 'be- 
tween starvation and slavery was all that was left 
to many even of the once wealthy citizens. 

" In the midst of the slaughter a soldier made 
his way to the apartment where Archimedes, then 
an old man of seventy-four years, was busily 
drawing a mathematical figure on a table covered 
with sand. Perceiving the sword brandished 
above his head, the philosopher begged a moment 
more in which to finish his theorem ; but the 
brute, for his only answer, killed him on the 
spot.'' 

" Oh, how disgraceful that was I '' said Maggie. 
''Don't you believe that Marcellus was sorry, 
uncle, after the deed was done ? '' 

" Probably not, for, although he was brave and 
skilful, he was cruel and grasping, and Archi- 
medes had baffled many of his plans and very 
greatly prolonged the defence of the city/' 



WICKED TRICK OF A GREEK COLONY. 121 

" What happened to Sicily after the fall of 
Syracuse ? " 

" It became a Roman province, and for a long 
time shared the fortunes of its masters. With 
Rome it became Christian. With Rome it felt the 
horrors of barbarian conquests. First the Vandals 
and then the Goths carried fire and sword through 
its borders, after which it passed to the dominion 
of the Greeks.'' 

'' And what was going on in Southern Italy ? " 
I asked. 

''The Greeks colonized 

" SOUTHERN ITALY 

as well as Sicily. The natives were a simple 
people, and were no match for the strangers, either 
in arms or cunning. Those who settled at Locri 
were bad men, and some of them were runaway 
slaves. They made a covenant with the Pelasgians 
who then lived there, in the following terms, — 
' There shall be friendship between us, and we will 
enjoy the land in common as long as we stand 
upon this earth and have heads upon our shoul- 
ders.' But the deceitful knaves had hidden earth 
in their shoes and heads of garlic on their shoul- 
ders beneath their clothes ; and when they had 
cast these aside, they pretended that their oath 
was no longer binding. As soon as they were 
strong enough, they fell on their allies and robbed 
them of all their possessions." 

'' What rascals, oh, what rascals ! " cried Thor- 



128 TEE TWO SICILIES. 

nie, unconsciously doubling his fist as if he were 
making ready to fight those wicked cheats. 

*' Did they prosper V^ 1 asked. 

" They did for a time/' replied uncle. " South- 
ern Italy, or, as it was called. Magna Grecia, Great 
Greece, became very rich, and its cities were 
numerous and splendid. One of the most famous 
of these cities was 

"SYBAEIS. 

" Its inhabitants were so luxurious in their habits 
that even now very efieminate and pleasure-loving 
persons are called Sybarites. '^ 

"■ That was what Mr. Wilton meant last week,'' 
said Maggie. '' He was describing Mr. Macomber 
to you, uncle, and after telling you about his superb 
toilet service, and his perfumes, and cosmetics, 
and the like, he finished by saying, ' In short, he is 
a perfect Sybarite.' " 

" Mr. Wilton drew the portrait of a person en- 
tirely destitute of true manliness, and yet I dare 
say that Mr. Macomber prides himself upon that 
very over-nicety of habit and silly daintiness of 
manner which is so offensive to people of vigorous 
intellects and strong character. Still, he cannot 
rival the ancient Sybarites, one of whom I will tell 
you about under the title of 

'' SMINDYRIDES AND ms WOOING. 

" Clisthenes, sovereign of Sicyon, a city not far 
from Corinth, in Greece, was held in the highest esti- 



SMIXDTRIDES, THE SYBARITE. 129 

mation by the whole country. He had a daughter 
Agarista, for whom he desired the best of husbands, 
and having at one time gained the jDrize in the 
chariot-race at the Olympic Games, he caused this 
proclamation to be made : ' Whoever among the 
Greeks deems himself worthy to become the son-in- 
law of Clisthenes, let him come sixty days hence, or 
if he will sooner, to Sicyon, for within a year's time, 
counting from the end of the sixty days, Clisthenes 
will decide on the man to whom he will contract 
his daughter/ 

" At the time appointed several suitors ap- 
peared, and among them was Smindyrides, the 
Sybarite. He made the voyage in a galley of his 
own, and had a thousand slaves, fishermen, hunters 
and cooks in his train. The utmost care was taken 
to keep from him the appearance of labor, for once 
when he saw a peasant lift his spade with difficulty 
it gave him a severe pain. His bed was nightly 
strewn with rose-leaves, but he could not sleep if 
one of them was accidentally folded. He was as 
ill-bred as he was silly, for upon seating himself at 
table he declared that no one should aspire to a 
place near him except the princess when he should 
have made her his wife. That time, as will be 
seen, never came. 

" Clisthenes kept his guests a year, and busied 

himself the while in studying their characters 

and becoming acquainted with their opinions and 

accomplishments. He treated all with equal cour- 

9 



130 TBE TWO SICILIES. 

tesy, but he secretly favored Hippoclides, who be- 
longed to a noble Athenian house. 

*' On the day appointed for his final choice, 
Clisthenes offered in sacrifice a hundred oxen. A 
banquet followed, to which all the Sicyonians were 
invited. After this was ended the suitors exhibited 
their skill in music, and spoke as eloquently as 
they could on a subject given out for the purpose. 
Hippoclides at first had the advantage, but deter- 
mined to show all that he knew, and careless of the 
dignity of the occasion, he ordered the flute- 
player to perform certain airs, and danced the 
Lacedaemonian and then the Athenian figures. 
Not content with this, even, he called for a tabl^e, 
and, balancing himself upon his hands, threw his 
feet in the air and made gestures with them like a 
common mountebank. Clisthenes bore his coarse- 
ness and folly as long as he was able, and then 
said, ' Son of Tisander, you have danced your wife 
away.^ 

'^ ' What does Hippoclides care ? ^ asked the 
pert youth, and these words became a common 
saying. 

" Clisthenes then announced that he bestowed 
Agarista upon Megacles, the son of Alcmaeon. 
He thanked all the competitors for the honor which 
they had done him by seeking to ally themselves 
with his house, and gave to each a talent of 
silver.'' 

" How much was a talent, uncle ? '' 

*' About a thousand dollars of our money.'' 



A STOLEN BRIDE. 131 

" I wonder if Clisthenes were as generous as a 
father as he was as a host/' said I. 

*' That is doubtful," answered uncle, " for the 
Greeks lived a showy, ambitious life, and were 
often hard, avaricious and tyrannical at home in 
proportion as they were shining and lavish abroad. 

'' In the year A.D. 535, the Greeks conquered 
Sicily ; they held it until 827, at which time 

" A STOLEN BRIDE 

was the means of introducing the Saracens. The 
Greek governor was named Euphemius. He had 
a grand palace and splendid furniture, a long train 
of attendants, and many fine horses ; but none of 
his beautiful things appeared to him of any value 
unless he could share them with Omoniza, a 
charming young girl who lived in a Sicilian con- 
vent, not as a nun, but either as a pupil or 
boarder. He left his business to his officers, 
lost all relish for hunting, and wandered idly in 
the cool garden shadows, or dreamed of his be- 
loved on the crimson cushions which lay around 
the fountains. At length, he was betrothed to 
Omoniza, with the consent of her parents, an(J very 
happy he became. He thought he could never do 
enough for his lovely bride, and he grew really 
fidgety and troublesome over his new furniture 
and new wardrobe, and the preparations for his 
wedding, which he desired to make as splendid as 
possible. 
" While he was planning all this and overseeing 



132 THE TWO SICILIES. 

the details, that nothing might be omitted which 
might give Omoniza pleasure, another admirer of 
the maiden appeared, and persuaded her family to 
break her former engagement and affiance her to 
him. When Euphemius learned this treachery, 
he vowed that nothing but death should separate 
him from his darling Omoniza, his wife in the sight 
of heaven, if not in that of men, and he stole her 
away by night and carried her off on his fleet- 
footed Arabian. Her faithless brothers were en- 
raged because he had dared to thwart them, and 
set sail immediately for Constantinople, where 
they procured a cruel decree against him. 

" Euphemius knew that there was universal dis- 
content in Sicily because of the tyranny of the 
Greek government ; he was stung to madness by 
the insult offered him by Omoniza^s parents, which 
appeared unbearable to his eastern pride ; and he 
was threatened with a severe and humiliating pun- 
ishment, out of all proportion to his offence. It 
was almost if not quite impossible to fly ; yet, if he 
should remain inactive for a few days, he would 
be hopelessly ruined. He had been cruelly dealt 
with by others, and he resolved to be cruel in his 
turn. He fortified his palace, collected arms, 
gathered his friends together, and caused himself 
to be proclaimed king of Sicily. He hoped to 
take his enemies by surprise and to gain great 
advantages by the rapidity of his movements ; but 
the Greek troops distributed through the island 
were too numerous for his little band, and pressed 



THE LITTLE CHRISTIAN AND THE SARACEN, 13^ 

upon him in every direction. Seeing the impos- 
sibility of maintaining the position which he had 
taken, he invited the Saracens to his aid." 

" Did he succeed ? " asked Thornie, breathlessly. 
"Did he succeed; and did he become king, 
uncle ? " 

" No ; he did not succeed, Thornie. He was 
beheaded by his allies at Castrogiovanni before he 
had made much progress toward the throne which 
he sought to occupy.'' 

" And did the Saracens conquer ? " 

" Yes, but not until after almost fifty years of 
fighting." 

'' Were there no Christians left in Sicily, Uncle 
Paul?" 

*' Not many," answered uncle. " A few mon- 
asteries were tolerated, and the religious hermits 
and travelling friars were undisturbed ; but the 
clergy proper were scattered ; and Christianity was 
at last probably rooted out. Now, I will tell you 
the story I promised, about 

"the little christian and the generous SARACEN. 

" Count Onate was a very grand count, indeed ; 
and he lived at Palermo when it was taken by the 
Saracens. He had been much at the court of 
Constantinople, engaged in plans for bettering his 
fortune ; and by the time he was ready to enjoy 
his house and home, his wife died, leaving him a 
little daughter, named Nona, whom he dearly 
loved. Nona was a sweet-tempered, obedient 



134 TEE TWO SICILIES. 

child, very prayerful and tender in spirit, and she 
never joined in any of the rude plays in which 
her cousins sometimes indulged. It was her chief 
pleasure to hear her nurse, Carone, talk about the 
dear Christ-child, and the saints who for love of 
him had dared and endured all things. 

" When Palermo was assailed by the Saracens, 
the count fought on the walls with desperate 
valor : and when they could no longer be defended, 
he fought his way, step by step, to his palace, 
which was very strong, and in which he shut him- 
self up with his immediate followers. But this 
determined resistance only enraged the enemy; 
and when they broke in, they killed every man, 
woman and child, except Nona only. The captain 
of the assaulting party crossed the court, slippery 
with blood, and, passing through halls and cham- 
bers, found entrance to an inner sanctuary, the 
praying-room of the little maiden. She was 
dressed in white fleecy garments, and her face was 
as white as her robe from the terror she was in. 
Her soft fair hair floated around her shoulders, 
and her little hands were folded and lying against 
the ivory crucifix before which she was kneeling. 
Behind her was a picture of the Madonna and 
Child ; and at either side of it there burned a 
huge wax candle, with a wreath of fragrant flowers 
falling down from the marble shelf and looped to 
the silver candlesticks. Mileza — the captain — 
paused for a moment, almost thinking her one of 
the beautiful beings whom he himself believed in ; 



THE LITTLE CHRISTIAN AXD THE SARACEN: 135 

then, remembering where he was, he raised his 
sword to kill her, as he had killed her father. Nona 
opened her eyes and saw the uplifted weapon, but 
she did not cry out. She only clasped the crucifix 
eagerly, and bowed her head against it with a 
loving kiss. Mileza himself had a daughter who 
was eight years old, — just the age of Nona. He 
remembered her, and his heart warmed toward the 
orphan. He snatched her up, threw his cloak 
around her, and gave her in charge to two of his 
men, threatening to make them answer with their 
lives for her safety. 

^' For some months, Nona was obliged to follow 
the movements of the Arabian army ; but Mileza 
was kind to her, and her sweet face and gentle 
ways endeared her to his men, although they hated 
her religion and had helped to slay her kindred. 
By and by, Mileza sent for his family, and estab- 
lished them in her father's palace ; and she occu- 
pied her own nursery with the little Saracen 
Mirana. 

" The two children soon became extremely fond 
of each other ; and they had a good, warm-hearted 
Saracen nurse, who treated them with equal kind- 
ness. She told them stories about Mohammed her 
great prophet ; and Nona, in return, told her 
about the Christ-child, and Mary his mother, and 
about the saints to whom she prayed. The nurse 
liked to hear these stories ; and Mileza and his 
wife did not interfere with Nona, because they 
thoug'ht she would soon forget her faith and learn 



136 THE TWO SICILIES. 

to believe as they did. But one thing happened 
which they did not foresee. Mirana learned to 
love the Christ-child and to pray as Nona prayed. 
Still the nurse could not bear to cross the children, 
and she said nothing to her master and mistress, 
but imagined all would come right at last. 

"Mirana fully understood that she would not 
long be permitted to worship in this way ; and she 
and Nona laid many plans for escape to Italy, of 
which they had heard much, and where they felt 
sure they should find friends to care for them. 
One day, they found the garden gate open ; and, 
running to the wharf, they asked a man whom they 
saw' if he would help them get over to Italy. The 
man happened to be captain of a small vessel 
which plied between Palermo and Syracuse ; but 
he had never received applications from such trav- 
ellers. He looked at the children with amaze- 
ment. Their delicate forms, their elegant dresses, 
the jewels which sparkled on their heads, necks 
and arms, increased his bewilderment ; but recov- 
ering a little from his surprise, he asked, ' Who 
are you ; and why do you want to go to Italy ? ^ 

" ' I am the daughter of Count Onate,' said 
Nona. ' All my people are dead, and I want to 
go where I can pray as I like. And this is my 
sister Mirana, the daughter of Captain Mileza, and 
she wants to go, too.' 

" ' Count Onate spared my little boy in the very 
heat of battle,' said Captain Mirza, ' and, though 
he is dead and gone, I will save his child j but I 



THE LITTLE CHRISTIAN AND THE SARACEN. 13t 

am under no obligation to ruin my business or 
risk my life for the pleasure of Captain Mileza's 
\ daughter ; so, my little maid, if you want to go to 
Italy, you must go alone/ 

*' The children begged and implored for Mirana, 
but the captain said ' No ; ' and so they kissed 
each other and wept ; and Mirza hurried his little 
passenger on board his vessel, and set sail. All 
that Mirana could do was to return to the palace, 
- and mourn for her lost playmate. 

" When Mirza arrived at Reggio, he gave up his 
charge to the authorities, and explained to them 
who she was and the reason of her flight. They 
received her willingly, and placed her in the con- 
vent of Our Lady of Mercy. When the excite- 
ment of her escape was over, Nona pined for 
Mirana, and the good old nurse, who had been to 
her a second mother ; but the nuns, delighted at 
this addition to their family, never wearied of 
petting and caressing her. They were charmed 
with her whole story from the hour of her earliest 
recollection. They made her describe her parents, 
her home, the taking of Palermo, her own capture, 
the Saracen family which had received her so 
kindly, and tell them all her plans for flight, her 
hopes and fears, and her sorrow at leaving her 
little friend. She went over with them every flut- 
ter of the sail which brought her to Reggio, every 
word that the grateful Mirza had said to her, her 
interview with the authorities of the city, and her 
transference to their friendly hands. 



138 THE TWO SICILIES. 

" By the time that all this had grown old and 
worn, a new event occurred to give conversation ^ 
a fresh start. A poor, careworn man appeared at 
the convent and begged to see Nona. ' Who can 
it be ? ' she asked herself. ' Possibly a messenger 
from Mirana.' She went to the little parlor and 
found Mirza. His part in her flight was dis- 
covered ; and he had escaped with difficulty from 
Palermo, where Mileza was seeking to arrest and 
imprison him. Mileza was all-powerful in Sicily, 
for he had been appointed governor of the island ; 
nor did Mirza know of any place where he. could 
be safe from his vengeance. 

'^ Nona was overjoyed that she could, in her 
turn, do something for Mirza. She told the story 
to the abbess, who applied to the archbishop; and 
the latter, upon a careful consideration of the case, 
obtained leave for Mirza to settle with his family 
in Reggio, with full permission for all of them to 
live and die in the Mohammedan faith. He also 
gave him money for the purchase of an orange- 
garden, because his own little property had been 
seized by Mileza. So Mirza began life again at 
Reggio, and all happened as the wise archbishop 
had foreseen. Shut out from his own people, and 
surrounded by men of another faith, he, with his 
wife and his childreu, at last turned from Moham- 
med and his Koran, and became Roman Catholics. 

" Nona grew up gentle, loving and pious, and 
when the abbess of the convent died, she was 
appointed to her place. She had few sorrows ; 



THE LITTLE CHRISTIAN AXD THE SARACEN. 139 

but among them she numbered the fate of her dear 
Mirana, who died young, as it was said, from sor- - 
row, because her parents compelled her to confess 
the Mohammedan belief/' 

*' How charming that story is I '^ I cried. " But, 
uncle, is it true ? '' 

^ "As true as a great deal that passes for truth,'' 
answered uncle ; " but not authenticated. That I 
must confess." 

" How sorry I am for Mirana ! " said Maggie. 

" It was hard," returned Thornie, " right hard. 
Mirza really risked his life and ruined his business 
by helping Nona. He might as.well have set both 
children across the channel." 

"So he might, as it turned out," I replied; 
" but that he could not foresee. He probably 
thought Mileza would not look very carefully after 
his little protegee; but, of course, it would have 
been a great crime to carry off the daughter of a 
crown officer." 

" Well, we cannot altej- anything now," said 
Thornie ; "so come out and see how nicely Spot 
is learning to swing." 

Nobody but. Bessie knew that Thornie had been 
teaching Spot to swing ; and at the mention of 
this accomplishment, we all, including uncle and 
aunt, went to. the orchard in a body. 



CHAPTEE YII. 




TANCEED DE HA0TEVILLE — A EAINT ETENIIfO— STORY OF THE FAIET GUT — 
THE PARENTS OF OLDEN TDIE — EGBERT GUISCARD — INVASION OF CALABRIA — 
EOBERT'3 RAID — THE STONE STATUE — THE COUNT \VTHO WAS TURNED TO STONE 
— THE CHEST OF GOLD — THE DEAD SOLDIER RESTORED TO LIFE — EGBERT'S 
BROTHERS — THE SARACEN TRAITOR — LNVASIOK OF SKJILT — EOGEJt'S COURT- 
SHIP AND MARRIAGE. 



T rained, and the wind went sighing and 
sobbing round the house as if it were really 
in trouble. We — the children at Font- 
hill — listened to the grieving tones, and 
sighed, too. The lessons were all finished, 
and still there was a whole hour to supper. 
Aunt had gone to see her washerwoman, who was 
sick ; uncle had, for once, turned us out of the 
library ; and Mrs. Sharp was roasting coffee and 
mixing flapjacks. Mrs. Sharp had promised us a 
treat, and this was it. Except on festive occasions, 
we had nothing for supper but dry toast, fruit, and 
milk. 

''What shall we do?" asked' Maggie, looking 
dolefully round the drawing-room. "It is dull in 
the house and wet out of it." 
"Tell stories," replied I. 
" Yes ; but who will tell one ? " returned Mag^ 



gie. 



140 



THE FAIRY GIFT, 141 

"I will/' said Thornie. ''Uncle told me to 
write something about the Monaciello which the 
Neapolitan peasants are said to believe in, and I 
have written a story. I call it 

"the fairy gift. 

" Cesare Lucido was a blacksmith at Naples. 
He had nothing on earth but his hammer and anvil, 
the clothes on his back, and a holiday suit much 
the worse for wear. No, — there I am mistaken, — 
for he had an old grandfather, the only legacy left 
him by his parents, who required every extra half- 
penny that he could earn. Nevertheless, Cesare 
loved with all his heart Giulia, the pretty daughter 
of the goldsmith Aniello. Being an honest, 
straightforward fellow, he went directly to the 
goldsmith and asked him for the hand of the young 
lady, for he was tolerably sure in his own mind 
that her heart was his already. The goldsmith 
looked at the handsome, good-tempered youth, and 
said, ' Cesare, I know that you are temperate and 
industrious, and that you have a warm heart withal ; 
but before I give you my daughter, you must be- 
come as good a goldsmith as myself.' 

"This answer was so unexpected that Cesare 
could not utter a word. He went to the little 
room which he kept for his grandfather, and would 
not speak, eat, or work the whole day. When he 
did return to his anvil, he dragged himself slowly 
along, and his strokes were feeble and careless. 
While lie was in this unhappy state he wandered 



142 THE TWO SICILIES. 

a great deal about the city at night, for he was so 
restless that he could not remain quiet ; and as 
he had no bed except the steps of a church, it did 
not matter much whether he were on it or not. 

" One night, when he was passing a cross that 
had just been set up in the market-place, he saw 
close to it a short, thick man, with a broad-brimmed 
hat and the long robe of a monk, who was 
wringing his hands and wailing pitifully. ' What 
is the matter, friend ? ' asked Cesare. ' Can I 
help you ? I have no money, but I have a pair of 
stout arms at your service.' 

'' ' They are just what I need,' replied the little 
man. ' Can you ■ — will you carry me across the 
market-place ? ' 

'' ' Ay, that I will, and welcome,' returned 
Cesare ; and he took up the poor fellow as if he 
had been a bahy. 

'' No sooner did he set him down, than he dis- 
appeared, without even stopping to thank him. 
' How odd ! ' said Cesare, to himself. '■ Since he 
could run like a cat, why did he want me to carry 
him ? ' 

*' Then Cesare remembered that he found him at 
the foot of the cross ; and he knew at once that it 
must be the Monaciello, or Little Monk ; and that, 
not aware that the cross had been put up, he ran 
against it in the darkness, and so was held fast ; 
for it is always thus with the underground people. 
' Well, suppose it were the Monaciello,' he said 
to himself ; * I am glad I helped him, poor little 
thing.' 



THE FAIRY GIFT. 143 

"The next night, Cesare was wandering" gloom- 
ily along the seashore ; when, just before mid- 
night, the Monaciello appeared, and said, 'I am 
very grateful for your help last night, for I could 
not get away from the cross ; and if anybody else 
had found me, I might have been shut up or have 
been cruelly beaten. Now, if you will go with 
me, I will show you a concealed treasure, which 
will make you rich for life/ 

" ' Thank you, dear Monaciello,' replied Cesare; 
' but it is not gold that I want. I love beyond 
measure the beautiful daughter of Aniello, the 
goldsmith ; and he will not give her to me until I 
become as good a goldsmith as himself. It is 
impossible, and he knows it ; for how can my 
fingers, stiffened by coarse labor, turn the slight 
rings and cut the tiny figures which are the fashion 
just now ? ' 

" ' Oh, you want to be a goldsmith, do you? 
Very well, be on this spot at this time to-morrow 
night, and I will see what I can do for you.' 

" Cesare was punctual to his appointment ; and 
happy indeed was he when the Monaciello gave 
hjm a set of tools which would do all kinds of 
goldsmith work, even the very finest. Then, with 
a hearty laugh, the good little creature added a 
great lump of something that looked like coal, and 
told him gayly that that was to begin his trade 
upon. 

" * I doubt if it will answer, dear Monaciello/ 
replied Cesare ; ' but I will keep it safely in re- 



144 THE TWO SICILIES. 

membrance of you ; for I never can thank you 
enough for your kindness/ 

" Cesare was half beside himself with joy, but 
he kept his hopes to himself, and tried hard to look 
as gloomy as he had before done, lest somebody 
might suspect his secret. He sold his anvil and 
hammer, and gave the proceeds to his grandfather; 
and then he put on his holiday suit, and contrived 
to join Miss Giulia on her way from church. He 
told her what her father had said, and begged her to 
wait for him one year. This Giulia was only too 
happy to promise ; and Cesare left Naples early 
the next morning. Ho carried nothing away with 
him but his tools, and the great lump of coal which 
he had promised to keep as a souvenir from the 
grateful sprite. Toward nightfall, he grew hun- 
gry and thirsty, but there was not so much as a 
cluster of grapes hanging over a fence which he 
might gather to eat, or a wayside fountain at 
which he might drink. ' I will look at Monaci- 
ello's gift,' he said ; * that will be bread and fruit, 
both.' So he took out the tools and the heavy 
black lump ; when, behold ! the latter proved to 
be gold of the very best quality. Then Cesare re- 
membered that the dwarf had said it was to begin 
his trade with, and he forthwith began to work. 
All went smoothly. When he said to himself, ' I 
will make a seal ring ; ' the tools, although they 
were between his fiDgers, moved of themselves, 
and in a short time there fell on his knee one of 
the handsomest articles ever seen, all rounded, 



THE FAIRY GIFT, 145 

and carved, and ready for the letters or device to 
be cut on the back ; and when he said, ' Now I 
will make a lady's ring,' there came out in the 
same manner an entirely new style of ornament, 
which nobody could help admiring. ' Every house 
can be opened with a golden key,' said he ; and 
he started forward with fresh courage. 

" Before long, flaming accounts reached Naples 
of a wonderful goldsmith who was getting the 
custom entirely away from the old firms ; and 
Aniello went to Genoa on purpose to see him, and 
if possible persuade him to remove to Naples and 
go into partnership with himself. He easily found 
the shop; and fancy* his amazement, when, upon 
entering, he saw Cesare Lucido, finely dressed, and 
his old grandfather in a wadded wrapper of flow- 
ered silk, lying on a handsome lounge. A bargain 
was quickly concluded between the two gold- 
smiths, and Cesare and Giulia were married as 
soon as the wedding wardrobe could be made 
ready." 

" That is right pretty, Thornie," said I, " and I 
thank you." 

'' So do I," said Maggie. 

"And I, too," said Bessie. * 

Just then we heard aunt's voice, and a minute 
afterward the tea-bell rang; and we forgot all 
about the Monaciello, and Cesare, and Giulia, while 
we drank coffee and ate hot cakes. Still, one can- ^ 
not keep eating all the evening, even if it is 
gloomy ; and when we returned to the drawing- 
10 



146 



THE TWO SICILIES. 



room, we were as much at a loss for something to 
do as we had been two hours before. So we 
asked uncle if he would give us the next lesson 
on the Two Sicilies, instead of waiting till the 
following afternoon. Uncle said ' yes ; ' and began 
with the story of 



" THE BOYS WHO WENT TO SEEK THEIR FORTUNE. 

i 

" Ever and ever so long ago, — in fact, as early 
as the beginning of the eleventh century, — a war- 
rior named 



ANCIiED DE HAUTEVILLE livcd 

in a beautiful valley in 
Normandy. He had a rude 
castle, strong but uncom- 
fortable ; and he had a 
family of brave sons, who 
would have liked nothing 
better than to have been 
assaulted in it by an army 
of a thousand men. But 
he was very poor in money 
and in those things which 
money buys ; so his gal- 
lant boys left him, one 
after another, to seek their 
fortunes ; which, in those 
days, meant to fight for 
it/' 

'* Those old fathers and 




TAKCBED DE HAUTEVILLE. 



THE PARENTS OF OLDEN TIMES. 14 1 

mothers must have been very unlike ours/' said 
Thornie. '' Their hearts were too small to hold 
their boj^s and girls after babyhood, and so they 
pushed them out, as the birds push out their little 
ones from their nests. Now, thank fortune, all 
that is changed. Why, uncle, tall fellow as I am, 
mother always comes into my room and kisses me 
good-night ; and, uncle, I like it, too.'' 

" I think you are not wholly just, Thornie," re- 
plied uncle. " There was true affection in those 
days, but the home, that beautiful thought of 
God, was not understood' and developed. The 
girls, indeed, were petted ; but everything was 
done to make the boys fiery warriors, and the 
fathers — whatever may have been the case with 
the mothers, of whom we hear but little — took 
pride in the strength and courage of their sons, 
rather than comfort in their virtues. Robert 
Guiscard had been educated in the belief that men 
were born to fight, and that the right lay with the 
strongest. He performed wonderful exploits, yet 
one cannot really admire him, because he was 
artful and treacherous, and cared very little what 
happened to others if he could but grow rich and 
powerful himself. When he began to look about 
for something to do, he turned his eyes toward 
Southern Italy. He thought he should like the 
golden sunshine which -melted into the lemons and 
oranges, and the great olive-orchards, and the 
vineyards with their purple grapes and sparkling 
wine ; so he unfurled the Norman standard — a 



148 THE TWO SICILIES. 

three-pointed red banner, with green Bilk tassels — 
and started for Calabria.'' 

" Could he fight better than the Calabrians, 
uncle?" 

" Vastly better. They, poor people, made such 
resistance as they could ; and when no other way 
remained, they fled, driving their flocks and herds 
before them, so that Robert was troubled for pro- 
visions for his army, which grew larger and larger 
as he went on. One day, the purveyor for his 
camp of St. Mark said to him, ' I do not know what 
to do. There is not a morsel to eat in the camp, 
nor have I as much as a penny to buy a single 
loaf.' " 

" Dear me I what did Tancred say, uncle ? " 

''He said, 'Well, well, there will be bread and 
meat and money to-morrow ; so don't trouble 
your wise head about the matter.' 

" As soon as the purveyor departed, Robert col- 
lected sixty soldiers who knew the country per- 
fectly, and told them to be ready to march three 
hours after sunset. ' Ask no questions,' said he, 
' but follow the person whom you will find under 
the oak-tree to the south of the camp.' 

" It was then an hour past sunset, and Robert 
went into his tent, undressed in a leisurely manner, 
and threw himself upon a pile of hay, which 
served him for a bed. Then he told his attendant? 
that they might leave him to go to sleep by hiii; 
self. They had no fancy for. such early hours, and 
so they took an old harper who had followed their 



ROBERTS RAID, 149 

master, and went a little way off to have a good 
time. As soon as Robert heard the twanging of 
the harp and the cracked voice of the harper, 
singing about ' Normandy, dear Normandy,' he 
crept softly from his bed, and disguised himself so 
that nobody could possibly know him ; after which 
he went to the oak-tree to wait for his men. They 
liked to fight as well as he did ; and, beside, they 
had eaten no supper, which made them even more 
savage than usual. They were prompt to the 
minute, and little they cared who led them, so long 
as there appeared to be a promise of booty. 

"The Calabrians had fought and retreated, 
fought and retreated, until they reached a deep 
valley which it was difficult for an enemy to assail. 
The mountains upon either side were bare and 
precipitous, so that a soldier could be seen from 
the bottom as soon as he should try to descend, 
and the passages which led to it were narrow and 
winding. These passages the poor people fortified 
as well as they knew how ; and then, feeling sure 
that nobody could get near them, they did not take 
the trouble to keep out pickets, or even to post 
sentinels. 

" It had been a festival with them, and they had 
eaten, and drunk, and danced, and sung. Every- 
body was tired, and the men were, for the most 
part, much the worse for the wine which had been 
running until late in the evening. Robert and his 
band, pushing softly forward, were not seen by 
them until, with loud shouts and the rattling of 



150 THE TWO SICILIES. 

armor to make their band appear larger than it 
really was, they pounced upon the whole store of 
provisions, and carried it off after very little fight- 
ing. By and by, the Calabrians came to them- 
selves ; and, mounting their horses, they started in 
pursuit. The robbers were on foot ; and, beside, 
they knew nothing about forming to receive a 
charge. They would have been well beaten, but 
that Robert, who had been silent all night, lifted 
his visor and shouted cheerfully, ' Courage, sol- 
diers ! Here is your captain ! Forward I God 
aids ! God aids ! ^ 

''It was a delightful surprise. The voice of 
their idolized commander put new life into the 
marauders, and the thought of fighting beneath 
his very eye changed them to heroes. They 
rushed upon their pursuers pell-mell, killing many, 
taking some prisoners, and driving the rest back. 
Each soldier secured a good horse ; and Robert, 
who had departed with a troop of footmen, re- 
turned with a troop of cavalry. 

"As they approached the camp of St. Mark, 
the rising sun touched their steel caps with fire, 
and tipped their battle-axes with flecks of gold. 
It showed to advantage, also, the long procession 
of animals laden with bread and fruit, and hun- 
dreds of fragrant wine-casks. But there was 
neither banner nor pennon, although the good 
order which was maintained showed the presence 
of, at least, one practised warrior. 

'* 'Xjruiscard I Guiscard ! ^ shouted the sentinels. 



THE STONE STATUE. 151 

* De Haute ville to the rescue 1 ' * Guiscard I 
Guiscard ! De Hauteville to the rescue 1 ' was 
echoed and re-echoed impatiently through the 
camp. But no Guiscard appeared, and the knights 
were about to charge, each man as he pleased, 
when a horseman unattended sped across the open 
space. ' Normandy I Normandy forever ! ' broke 
from a hundred lips ; and the whole army pressed 
round their chief. ^^ 

" I suppose he could not let his army starve ; 
but it was cruel to rob those poor people of their 
provisions," said Maggie. 

'' Yes, Maggie ; war, even for a just cause, is 
always cruel, and war undertaken simply for con- 
quest — simply that^one man or one people may 
become rich at the expense of another — is the 
very height of cruelty." 

''Did Kobert stop there, uncle?" asked Mag- 
gie. 

" No ; he had no thought of doing so. He 
moved southward and encamped on a wide plain^ 
where his money and food again failed, and where 
he was supplied in a curious manner. An old 
statue stood just outside the tents. It wore a 
crown bearing an inscription which meant that at 
the Calends of May, at the rising of the sun, it had 
a head of gold." 

" Why, what could happen to it then, more than 
at any other time ? " exclaimed Maggie. 

" When were the Calends of May, please ? " 

"The first day of the month in the Latin calendar.'' 



152 THE TWO SICILIES. 

** The inscription must have been a mere puz- 
zle/' said.Thornie. 

" You shall learn if it were. For a time the 
idle troops used the statue for a mark to shoot at, 
or amused themselves by telling stories of its 
origin. ' ' 

" Do you know any of the stories, uncle ? " 
" I do not ; but I can make one up if you wish.'' 
*' We do I we do ! " cried several voices ; and 
uncle ran his fingers through his hair, and said, 

" You will please to fancy a beautiful evening, 
a full moon brightening the gray statue, and a 
group of Norman soldiers sitting and lying around 
its base. Young Tancred de Montville is called 
on for a story about the old fellow ; and, after 
running his fingers through his hair as I did just 
now, he asks, * Well, comrades, will you like to 
hear about the count who was turned to stone ? ' 
'* ' Yes, yes, that will be the very thing.' 
" ' Listen then to the true history of 

" ' THE COUNT WHO WAS TURNED TO STONE.' 

^* * Once upon a time, a great count lived in the 
mountains yonder. He had a beautiful wife and 
two lovely children ; and he had castles, and 
lands, and vassals not a few ; and he had horses, 
also, and dogs, and falcons of the choicest breeds. 
He lived very happily — as well he might — until 
the passion for money became hot at his heart. 
Then he began to fight ; and although he was 
sometimes victorious, he found that in the long 



THE COUNT WHO WAS TURNED TO STONE. 153 

run fortune was going against him. Next, he 
tried saving ; and he took all the fishes out of the 
streams, and all the grain off the land, and all the 
fruit off the trees, and he starved his vassals and 
his family, and nearly starved himself. Still, the 
fierce passion grew, and grew, and gnawed into 
his very life. 

'' ' One night, he lay in the moonlight, just 
where we are sitting now, and wondered whether 
he had anything more that he could turn into 
money. Before he had settled the question, a 
dark, tall man came striding along. His eyes 
shone as if there were in each of them a spark of 
fire, and his hair appeared to turn from gold to 
fire, and from fire to gold, as the wind moved it. 
The stranger and the count had a little chat to- 
gether, and then the stranger, seeing the ruling 
passion of his new acquaintance, promised that he 
would give him a treasure so vast that he could 
not count or even see it in his whole life, provided 
he would but permit him to wave his hand above 
him while he pronounced these words : — 

" Marble white, marble gray, 
Mingle ye together 
As ye mingle may. 

" Marble white, marble gray, 
/ Crowned with gold ye shall be 

In the merry May," 

«« ' " Oh, yes ; you may do it and welcome/ '' re- 



154 TEE TWO SICILIES. 

plied the count. " ^I have no marble, and you may 
mingle white and gray forever, for aught 1 care/ '' 

" ' But no sooner had the gentleman with the 
glittering eyes finished his conjuring, than the 
count began to feel a peculiar heaviness about his 
feet. He sprang up, but found he could not step. 
He was rooted to the spot. Then, his arms hung 
down, and a cold feeling crept to his heart which 
had been burning with desire ; and his lips closed, 
and his eyes drooped, and in a few minutes he was 
changed into a statue — the very one we are lean- 
ing again s-t. The stranger was a magician, and 
the treasure which he promised his unlucky victim 
sits like a crown on his head once every year, in 
the merry May. But he cannot see it or count its 
value ; and this was what he was brought to by 
his cruelty and greed.' '' 

'' Oh, uncle, that is a good story. I can almost 
see the magician with the fiery eyes and hair,'' said 
Maggie. 

" And I can quite see the moral of the tale," 
said Thornie. "It is that the love of money, for 
money's sake, makes people so cold and hard that 
they are really no better than stones. But, uncle, 
who contrived to find out the meaning of the in- 
scription ? " 

''A quick-witted Arabian captive; who, -in a 
private interview with Robert, told him that he 
thought the shadow cast by the statue at the hour 
and on the day indicated, pointed to a concealed 
treasure." 



THE CHEST OF GOLD, 155 

"'Very well/ said Robert; ' I need money a 
great deal more than prisoners, and just as soon 
as I see the sparkle of the coin, you shall be free 
to go or stay as you please/ 

*' The Arab had already calculated the spot 
where the tip of the shadow would lie on the first 
day of May. He looked over"" his reckoning once 
more to be sure that all was right, and then told 
the men who were detailed for that duty where to 
dig. Down went the spades, out flew the earth, 
steadily, steadily ; and so fifteen, twenty, thirty 
minutes passed. Then the men paused to rest, 
and the soldiers who pressed upon the guard 
laughed, but not unkindly. The Arab was cool 
and calm, and the men began again. Fifteen, 
twenty, thirty minutes, and the spades stopped a 
second time ; and the laughter round i\^ ring was 
turned to sneers. The Arab trembled. He was 
no loDger certain of the result. A third time the 
diggers turned to their work ; a half hour went 
slowly by, and then there was a dull sound as of 
metal. The Arab's face brightened. He looked 
into the hole, and saw that the spades had struck 
a stout iron chest. Robert- was called ; ropes and 
chains were brought ; and very soon a great prize 
was secured, with which the captive purchased 
his liberty. '' 

" That was splendid ! '^ said Maggie. 

"He was a genius," said Thornie. " The Sara- 
cens were very quick and invejitive, I think, 
uncle." 



156 THE TWO SICILIES. 

" Yes ; brilliant but not deep. , By and by- 
Robert reached the fortified city of 

" MALVITO, 

*' which was so strongly guarded that he could 
only take it by stratagem. So he sent a messen- 
ger to certain monks within the city with a request 
that they would bury one of his captains, who, 
he pretended, had just died, and whom, he said, 
he was anxious to lay in consecrated earth. The 
monks suspected nothing, and went to the hostile 
camp to receive the body. They found it covered, 
according to the Norman custom, with a waxed 
cloth ; and, taking it in charge, they set out in 
procession, accompanied by a long train of unarmed 
Normans, who marched slowly to the sound of the 
funeral chant. The city gate opened for their 
entrance, and was carefully closed behind them ; 
when, suddenly, the bier shook fearfully, and the 
dead man arose in complete armor and distributed 
swords to his comrades with amazing rapidity. 
The surprised garrison speedily surrendered, and 
the kindness of the conqueror secured the attach- 
ment of both the garrison and the citizens." 

" That was a mean trick, uncle ! I don't wish 
to hear any more about Robert ! '^ 

" Then I will tell you about his youngest broth- 
er, Roger, ^j this time, news of Robert's suc- 
cess had travelled back to the old ca'stle, and from 
thence had gone all through that region, growing 
more and more wonderful as it flew. Southern 



ROKEET'S BJtOTHERS. 157 

Italy became to Normandy what California was 
once to us ; and among- the first to hasten thither 
were Robert's four younger brothers/' 

" Four more brothers ! Oh, what a family." 

" They reached Calabria in safety, and Robert 
made the youngest, Roger, his captain-general. 
Roger fought for Robert awhile, and then he 
began to make conquests for himself. In 1061, 
Ebm-el-Themnah, the Arabian governor of Palermo 
and Syracuse, secretly crossed the straits, visited 
the two chiefs, and urged them to invade Sicily." 

"Why, that was just what Euphemius did, 
only that Euphemius was a Greek and invited the 
Saracens ! " exclaimed Thornie. 

" El-Themnah was very urgent. He said, ' The 
people are oppressed by cowardly, selfish rulers, 
and will make little opposition, because they are 
so discontented ; while I, with my friends, will join 
you as soon as you land.' Seeing that Robert 
hesitated, he drew from his bosom a copy of the 
Koran, and swore upon it that he had spoken only 
the truth." 

" Do the Mohammedans use the Koran for oaths 
as we do the Bible, uncle ? " 

"Precisely; but Robert was not convinced. 
' You are yourself a Saracen,' he said ; 'why then 
do you make such proposals ? ' 

"'I want revenge,' replied el-Themnah ; 're- 
venge ! revenge ! ' and he clenched his fist until 
tte long, slender nails fairly penetrated the palm." 

" ' Why can't you believe him, Robert ? ' whis- 



158 THE TWO SICILIES, 

pered Roger. ' I am sure he speaks truly. See 
how his eyes flash, and his mouth works with 
passion ; how his chest heaves ; how his thin, 
trembling fingers clutch at the folds of his man- 
tle.^ , 

" Still, Robert would make no promises ; but 
Roger, unknown to his brother, embarked in the 
night, with a few choice troops, and crossed to 
Sicily.'^ 

'' Uncle John would say that Roger had the 
' gift of belief,' '' said Thornie. 

" His wishes went with the Saracen, and that 
helped him to faith. When he reached Messina, 
he assaulted it by sea and land ; and, notwithstand- 
ing a vigorous resistance by the astonished inhabi- 
tants, who fought with arrows, brimstone, boiling 
pitch, and burning fagots, he carried the place." 

''I hope he was not cruel to the people,'' said 
Maggie. " Had Roger a wife and little children, 
uncle ? " 

" Not at that time ; but if you would like better 
to hear about his courtship and marriage than 
about his battles and sieges, I will tell you that 
story." 

" Indeed, We should," answered I. 

*' Indeed, we should," echoed Maggie and Thor- 
nie. 

" Roger was going on famously, taking city 
after city, when a messenger arrived at his head- 
quarters, and all at once his thoughts were turned 
from fire and slaughter to fine clothes, music, feast- 



It OGEE'S COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE. 159 

ing and other topics of a similar character. His 
soldiers — who had increased rapidly in numbers 
since his first success — were amazed when they 
saw him leave the camp at the head of a guard 
composed of the most brilliant of his knights, 
splendidly dressed, and taking with them every- 
thing desirable for a pleasure trip. A few old 
campaigners grumbled about losing time and giv- 
ing the heathen a chance to take a fresh start ; but 
most of them were quite willing to follow their 
leader's example and have a frolic themselves. 

*' The real truth of the matter was, that Eoger, 
when on his way to Apulia, had been present at 
the consecration of a novice at a Norman mon- 
astery, of which his friend, Robert of Grentemes- 
nil, was prior. He appeared very devout ; but he 
was not so entirely absorbed in the service as not 
to use his eyes at intervals ; and, peeping out from 
behind the pillar near him, he carjght a glimpse 
of the prior's sister Judith, who was, as Roger 
believed, either a novice or a nun in the adjoin- 
ing convent. He was charmed with her noble 
face, so spirited and yet so serene, and would have 
asked her hand of her brother, if he had supposed 
her free to marry. As it was, he could only think 
that he should never, never admire another lady 
as much, and complain that circumstances had 
been very perverse not to bring them together 
before she had vowed herself to a religious life. 

^' He had a good deal of comfort, to be sure, in 
his^ood sword, his tough lance, his stately war- 



160 THE TWO SICILIES. 

horse, and the heavy blows which he dealt to 
everybody whose possessions he wanted for him- 
self; but still, he was very glad when the messen- 
ger I have spoken of told him that the Norman 
monastery had been sacked, that Grentemesnil had 
been forced to fly to Italy, and that Judith was 
flying with him. He hurried to meet the fugitives 
with his glittering train, and conducted them with 
pomp to his city of Melito. Miss Judith was 
queen of the party. She was consulted about 
everything, and she travelled in such state as she 
had never seen before. All the way, too, Roger 
looked his best and smiled his sweetest, and 
busied himself in planning feasts and helping along 
with the merriment. He really could make him- 
self extremely agreeable when he chose, and it 
was not strange that when he arrived at Melito 
the lady was ready to marry him.'' 

" What a splendid time she must have had,'' 
said Maggie, "with all those knights at her com- 
mand ! Why, she had a real court I " 

'' I judge, from Judith's after life, that she was 
too modest to accept much attention from stran- 
gers. I imagine that she kept close to her brother, 
and that Roger claimed the few smiles that she 
chose to dispense," replied uncle. 

" Stupid for the knights," said Thornie ; " for,, 
travelling as Miss Judith did, I suppose she had 
not much of a train." 

" No Miss Annie," whispered I, mischievously. 

" Where did Roger and his wife live ? " asked 
Maggie. 



REIGN OF ROGER. l6l 

" In Sicily ; where Judith was often left to rule 
alone ; and where she distinguished herself by the 
cheerful fortitude with which she endured the ex- 
tremity of want when besieged by the still uncon- 
quered Saracens ; and the diligence, forethought 
and promptitude which she displayed as governor 
of cities constantly exposed to attack. 

"Roger was called the 'Great Count.' His 
reign was prosperous, and many of his descend- 
ants succeeded him. In the year 1194, the Ger- 
man house of Hohenstaufen seized upon the sover- 
eignty of Sicily." 
II 



CHAPTER VIII. 



CtOTEEAND BEINDLE — CBAP BLOOM — STEAWBEEETING — MAKDfQ BIECH BASKETS 
— THE STEAWBEEEY PASTUEE — SPOT'S ITAUGHTY TEICKS — SPOT SHUT UP — 
TEA ON THE TEEANDA — FEEDIN AND UNITES THE TWO SICILIES TO SPAIN — WHO 
WERE THE PEOPLE — EULE OF THE TICEEOTS — THE WOOING AND WEDDING OP 
ANNAD'ACQUAVIVA — D'AQUINO DESIRES a WIPE — HIS BAEGAIN WITH THE TICE- 
EOY — ANNA A PEISONEE — HEE EESCUE— DONA POEZIA'S EOLL DOWN THE 
GEAND STAIEWAT — ANNA IN THE CONVENT — ANNA'S LOVEE — ANNA'S MAB- 
EIAGE — BRIGANDS — THE BOY WHO REFUSED TO BETEAY HIS FATHER — PEINCB 
MAEZIO — THE PRINCE'S FLIGHT — CARLO JOINS HIS FATHER — CARLO'S LIFE IN 
THE MOUNTAINS — CAELO CAPTURED — CARLO BEATEN — CARLO IN PRISON — 
CARLO DESTINED TO THE TOETUEE — CAELO EESCUED — CARLO ESCAPES TO 
THE MOUNTAINS — CARLO'S DEATH — PRINCE MARZIO BECOMES AN ABBOT — 
INSCRIPTION ON THE PRINCE'S TOMB. 



DO not care much for strawberries and 
cream in town, for there one gets garden 
Strawberries, and cream a little thicker 
than milk ; but in the country, with the 
sweet, juicy wild ones, and cream that 
looks like white jelly on the red fruit, it 
is altogether another dish. Here we have the 
richest of cream, for Clover and Brindle are won- 
derful cows — at least, I imagine they are, since 
the farmers from twenty miles around come to look 
at them. They came from England, — the cows I 
mean, — and are of a choice breed, though I do not 
remember the name. I only know that they are 
as gentle as possible, and they are kept so beauti- 

162 




CItAP BLOOM. 



1'63 



fully clean, and have such sweet breath, that 
it is a pleasure to stroke them and talk to them. 

Crap Bloom brings aunt berries and wild flow- 
ers from spring-time till autumn, and sometimes 
he brings great wicker baskets and wicker bird- 
cages for sale also. 




tnCKEB BASKETS. 




WICKER EIED-CAGES. 



Poor Crap has no parents, and I am afraid that the 
man he lives with does not treat him kindly. I 
saw that he was crying when he went away day 
before yesterday, notwithstanding that aunt had 
just paid him two dollars for his berries, and Mrs. 
Sharp had given him a nice supper beside. I 
really must find out about Crap. 



164 TEE TWO SICILIES. 

Yesterday I wanted to go strawberrying, and 
Thornie and Maggie said they would go, too. 
Aunt sent Mrs. Sharp to take care of us, but I 
fancy that it was rather because she thought that 
she would like the fun than from any fear of ill-luck 
for us while we should be away. At any rate, 
Mrs. Sharp was glad to go, and we had a much 
better time than if we had been alone. 

First, she led us to a piece of woods where there 
were many tall birch-trees, and taking a jackknife 
out of her pocket, she stripped off great pieces of 
the smooth yellow bark. Then she showed us 
how to bend the bark into baskets and fasten it 
with slender wooden pins. Neither of us could 
make them as quickly or as neatly as she did, but 
she said she had made similar ones before we were 
born, so that was not surprising. My first basket 
would not stand until Mrs. Sharp gave it a pinch 
or two ; Maggie tore one with the pins, and Thor- 
nie, fairly out of patience, threw away the piece of 
bark he was at work upon. However, we learned 
after a time, and when we had made enough we 
went to the strawberry pasture. 

There never was a lovelier day, so warm and 
clear, and with just enough of a breeze to bend the 
tops of the grasses and shake their droll little 
flowers. We crossed some broad meadows, walk- 
ing one by one in the narrow foot-path, and just 
the least in the world afraid of snakes, although 
Ben had told us that we could not find one there 
for love or money. Oh, how lovely the fields were. 



8P0T*S NAUGHTY TRICKS, 165 

SO yellow with buttercups, so white with daisies, so 
red with clover ! Tliere were hundreds of butter- 
flies, some black and gold, some drab and pink, 
and some brown and fawn-colored. Then there 
were a flock of sociable goldfinches, a blue jay, a 
kingbird with his glossy black cap and tail adorned 
with white feathers, and a host of merry bob-o- 
links, which swung on the primrose stalks and ap- 
peared half crazy with fun and frolic. The blue 
crowfoot and purple flag edged the brook ; and 
above, on the dead limb of an elm-tree, sat a 
kingfisher, keeping a sharp outlook for trout and 
minnows. From a neighboring wheat-field came 
the sound of crickets, which were just beginning 
their summer song ; and a crow flew away to the 
upland with a harsh " caw, caw.'' 

The strawberry pasture was a low, damp spot, 
with little runnels of water cutting it up into 
islands. The grass was soft and cool to our feet, 
and the strawberries hung in great clusters from 
tall stems. Spot went with us, and behaved pret- 
ty well until we reached the fruit ; then we found 
that he liked it as well as we did. He jumped from 
hillock to hillock, poking his nose down among the 
leaves, and wagging his tail and barking whenever 
he found a fine bunch. At first we laughed heart- 
ily, and told him to help himself, but we soon 
found that he injured more fruit than he ate, and 
that he was constantly before us at the best 
places. 

At last Mrs. Sharp lost patience. She straight- 



166 THE TWO SICILIES. 

ened herself suddenly, threw back her sunbonnet, 
and put on a severe look while she said, 

" Young people, either Spot or I must leave this 
field.^' 

''He is a tease, Mrs. Sharp,'' answered I, '' and 
I am sorry we took him. Aunt said we had better 
not. What shall we do with him ? '' 

''I don't know," returned Mrs. Sharp, ''unless 
I carry him to farmer Claiborne's." 

"No, Mrs. Sharp," I replied; "I wanted Spot 
to come, and I will take him to farmer Claiborne's 
myself." 

" That you won't, indeed," cried Thornie. "I 
insisted the most on his coming, and I shall look 
after him. Spot ! Spot ! Come here, Spot I " 

But Spot really appeared to have a suspicion 
that Thornie meant him ill, and he led him such a 
chase ! Away he went, leaping from hillock to 
hillock, barking, and shaking his tail for pure fun. 
Then he skipped down to the river, and next he 
bounded off in the direction of the birch woods. 
It must have been a full half hour before Thornie 
had him safe in farmer Claiborne's barn. 

"Live and learn," said Thornie, with a laugh, 
when he returned, tired and heated, to the straw- 
berry pasture. 

Dear fellow ! he is always so good-tempered I 
I know I should have been downright angry if I 
had been so interrupted. 

We filled a great many baskets with straw- 
berries, and set the baskets into the large dishes 



FERDINAND. 161 

which we carried. When the dishes were full we 
went home ; and while we cooled and rested our- 
selves and dressed for tea, Aunt Mary and Tina 
and Sarah hulled the berries. We had tea on the 
veranda behind the honeysuckles, which kept off 
the sun, then just setting ; and very soon after we 
rose from table, Thornie, Maggie and I went to 
bed and to sleep. 

To-day we have had another lesson. It com- 
menced with the reign of 

FEBDINAND, THE CATHOLIC. 

''Ferdinand,'' said uncle, " was the husband of 
that Isabella who was the idol of the Spaniards. 
He made the whole of the Two Sicilies a part of 
the Spanish empire, and governed it by viceroys 
or vice-kings. Nothing could be more sorrowful 
than the condition of the people under these high 
officers. The king lived far away in Spain, and 
knew nothing of the country except what he 
learned from his own agents, who represented af- 
fairs just to suit tl^emselves, and speedily made 
way with all such persons as they suspected of 
trying even to hint to him anything contrary to 
their own stories. In this way the viceroys tyran- 
nized over the people as they pleased, and taxed 
them so heavily that sometimes they had not so 
much as a loaf of bread left for themselves." 
" Please, who were the people, uncle ? " 
'' I am glad you have asked that question, Kate. 
There was no great, thrifty, intelligent class of 



168 THE TWO SICILIES. 

farmers, merchants and meclianics, strong in num- 
•bers and wealth, such as we see in our Northern 
States. If there had been, such tyranny would 
have been impossible ; and therefore the kings, 
viceroys, nobles, popes ana priests worked to- 
gether to keep down all beneath them. The 
people were the wretched peasantry, the wrinkled, 
hard-handed, hungry artisans. The upper classes 
kept all the beauty and sweetness of life for them- 
selves. They would not acknowledge that these 
poor people had any rights, and granted them only 
privileges, which they often snatched away. 

"The viceroys loved magnijBcence, and lived 
like kings. This high officer was, on his arrival at 
Naples, conducted in a glittering felucca to a 
wooden pier erected for the purpose, which was 
covered with crimson damask and shaded by a 
canopy of many-tinted silks. Here the deputies 
of the city received him amidst bursts of music 
and volleys of artillery. The soldiers of the body 
guard and the sailors of the royal galleys fought 
mock battles, and plundered -^e pier and canopy 
of their gay draperies. His Excellency and train 
rode to the palace fn showy carriages, and the 
next day a great cavalcade accompanied him to 
the cathedral, at the gates of which he was met 
by the archbishop and clergy. The Te Deum was 
' chanted, after which the procession moved slowly 
through the town. This was called ' taking pos- 
session.' '' 

'* Were the nobles good and accomplished ? '' 



ANNA D'ACQUAVJVA. 169 

*' By no means. As a whole, they were both 
ignorant and wicked. Perhaps I can best show 
you the violence of the period, the want of honor, 
tenderness and courtesy which marked it, by a 
little history which I picked up in my travels. It 
is the account of 

"the wooing and wedding of anna d'acquaviva. 

" The Count of Oonversano belonged to a family 
immensely old, famous and wealthy ; and, thinking 
himself above the rules of justice and honor which 
common people ought to obey, he indulged in va- 
rious crimes. Nobody minded much about these, 
but he quarrelled with the Duke of Medina, the 
then viceroy, which was far more serious ; and 
on which account he took the precaution to with- 
draw to the monastery of San Lorenzo, it being 
more easily defended than his city palace. 

" One of the viceroy's favorites, named Bartol- 
ommeo d'Aquino, was a man of low birth ; but he 
had grown rich by oppressing the poor and cheat- 
ing the government, and he had set his heart upon 
making a fine marriage. He was afraid that the 
court ladies would refuse him in spite of his 
money ; in fact, he felt quite sure that they would 
unless he could proceed with authority, so he 
offered the duke a handsome bribe to help him 
through with the matter. The duke was delighted 
with the money, and also with the opportunity to 
vent his malice upon Oonversano ; and he resolved 
to marry this adventurer to Oonversano's niece, 
Anna. 



ItO THE TWO SICILIES, 

*' Although this would be a terrible humiliation 
to the young lady and her family, d'Aquino con- 
trived to buy over Anna's brother, Vincenzo ; and 
the duke asked Dona Porzia Sanseverino to aid in 
the match. She desired nothing better than to 
gratify him, anticipating, of course, a favor in re- 
turn ; and she drove in her chariot — a gaudy 
thing, covered with velvet, and sparkling outside 
and in with ornaments of gold and silver — to the 
convent where Anna was a pupil. In the most 
pleasing manner, she begged her to visit her at 
her villa, which was a lovely place on what is now 
the Riviera di Chiaja ; and returned with her in 
triumph, smiling a wicked little smile at the suc- 
cess of her arts. 

" When Anna learned what was required of her, 
she refused with anger ; but she^ soon found that 
she was really imprisoned, and was no longer free 
to act as she wished ; so she pretended to yield, 
while at the same time she managed to send word 
to her uncle of what was going on. Conversano 
could not leave his asylum, but he requested the 
Duke of Atri — who was the head of the family, 
and, therefore, as much interested as himself in 
preventing the marriage — to hasten to Dona Por- 
zia's villa and keep off d'Aquino until he could 
collect his friends. The duke did not lose a mo- 
ment, but armed his household servants, and 
reached the Chiaja at the very moment that d'Aqui- 
no and Don Vincenzo arrived to carry Anna away. 
A violent dispute began, and Don Vincenzo drew 



ANNA'S RESCUE. lYl 

his sword and gave it to d' Aquino, exclaiming, 
' Take it, and defend your wife ! ^ 

'' But d' Aquino knew that by persisting in this 
insulting conduct, he should draw upon himself 
the hatred of every nobleman in the kingdom ; 
and he put the weapon aside, with the reply, ' No, 
that I will not. I have already spent thirty-nine 
thousand dollars in attempting to obtain the young 
lady ; but I would gladly pay double the sum to 
undo all that has been done.^ 

" Meantime the viceroy had sent a troop of 
sbirri, or military police officers, to keep Dona 
Porzia's palace until he could summon a priest, 
thinking to have the marriage ceremony performed 
at once ; but the active count had already assem- 
bled forty of the most powerful nobles in Naples, 
who, in armor themselves,, and followed by their 
armed servants, rushed to the Chiaja. The band 
was swelled by constant additions, until it num- 
bered at least eight hundred persons. They were 
met at the entrance of Doiia Porzia's dwelling by 
a royal counsellor, with an order from the viceroy 
to offer no violence. They did not listen, but 
broke into the court-yard and overpowered the 
sbirri ; while the servants climbed through the 
windows and unbarred the door upon the inside. 

'' A way being thus opened, the duke with some 
of the cavaliers rushed into the upper chamber, 
and were received with unbounded joy by Anna. 
Dona Porzia resisted ; but Prince Torella, enraged 
at her conduct, gave her chair a kick, and away 



172 THE TWO SICILIES. 

rolled the stately lady, in anything but a stately 
manner, to the bottom of the grand staircase. 

" All this was fine fun for the triumphant cava- 
liers ; who, after the manner of the old stories of 
gallant knights and oppressed ladies, placed the 
rescued damsel in their midst, and, with a great 
deal of pomp and parade, rode directly past the 
royal palace, hoping that the viceroy would be 
there to see them go by." 

" And was he there, uncle ? " asked Maggie. 

^' No, he was not there; but he saw them, and 
fled to his villa at Posilippo, looking pale and 
frightened, and very unlike his usual pompous 
self." 

" What became of Anna's brother ? " 
• " He ran away, too, like the coward that he 
was ; and the bridegroom, who was to have been, 
barred the great doors of his splendid mansion, 
barricaded the windows, armed his servants and 
followers to the teeth, and then posted himself on 
the top of a turret, where he could see all that went 
on without danger to his scheming head. How- 
ever, nobody cared for either of these worthies, 
since it was the hated viceroy who had been the 
most to blame ; and, instead of wasting time upon 
them, the Duke of Atri and -Prince Torella ordered 
six fresh horses to be put to Anna's carriage, and 
the three drove off amidst such a round of congrat- 
ulations and such hearty shouts as were almost 
deafening. They reached Beneventum in safety, 
and Anna went to a convent, to be out of the way 
of the sly and treacherous viceroy." 



ANNA IN THE CONVENT, VlZ 

" Were the nuns willing to receive such a fash- 
ionable young lady ? '' 

"Not only willing, but glad. It was the most 
enjoyable event which had occurred at the convent 
for a long time. It brought a little romantic, out- 
of-doors life into the old cells, so dreary, silent 
and cold. Anna had to tell her story over and 
over again. She had to describe just how the 
viceroy looked, and dressed, and drove, and boat- 
ed, and received company and just how d' Aquino 
looked, and v/hat he wore when he came to carry 
her off. And she had to describe, also, how Dona 
Porzia went in state to the convent and coaxed 
her to visit her — and how she felt when she found 
herself a prisoner in her splendid room — and how 
she puzzled and puzzled her poor brain to contrive 
a way to inform her uncle of what was going on 

— and how the great troop of noblemen and ser- 
vants came dashing through the streets — and es- 
pecially how the Prince of Torella upset the high 
and mighty Dona Porzia, and sent her rolling like 
a plump ball down the grand staircase. When- 
ever Anna left out any point in the lively story, 
she had to return to it after she had finished. All 
she could do to vary the narrative was to dwell 
particularly upon one portion of it one day, and 
upon another portion the next ; so, sometimes 
she would enlarge upon the viceroy's treachery 

— sometimes, upon d' Aquino's disappointment — 
sometimes, upon the promptitude of the nobles — 
and sometimes, upon the gay drive which she had 



It4 THE TWO SICILIES. 

to Beneventum. In return for this story and many 
others, the gentle nuns told her their dreams and 
visions, which, I regret to say, appeared some- 
what tame to their sprightly guest. 

'' As Anna had no father and mother, and con- 
sequently no dear home, sweet with kind deeds 
and musical with loving words, she was quite con- 
tented at Beneventum, where she was admired 
and petted by the whole household. Indeed, she 
had begun to think she would like to live there 
always, when she was called to the parlor to re- 
ceive some distinguished guests. She found there 
the Count of Conver-sano, who introduced her to a 
tall, handsome youth with a grand title. As Anna 
wished to ask « great many questions, she took 
very little notice of the young man ; who, after 
looking at her admiringly for a while, rose and 
bade her good-by. When he had gone the count 
told his niece that he was to be her husband, and 
that she was to be married as soon as her aunts 
could prepare her wedding wardrobe. Such an 
announcement would be startling to an American 
girl ; but Anna, who had expected it ever since she 
could remember, took it as quietly as an invitation 
to a drive, and only wished she had scrutinized 
the young gentleman a little more carefully. 

"After that, the nuns had a new subject for 
conversation with Anna, But she, poor girl, 
could not tell them how she and her future hus- 
band meant to love one another, and bear with 
each other's faults, and strengthen each other's 



BRIOAKDS. 175 

virtues, and try to live so purely here that they 
might live together in heaven, for she knew 
nothing bout her betrothed herself. She knew 
only alio. .. his name and his money bags. So she 
took up oth '' points, and told them what palace 
she should inhabit, and how many servants she 
should have, and how elegantly she should dress. 
It was a very worldly picture that she drew, with- 
out the first touch of tenderness or breath of 
sweetness, but the nuns liked it because it was so 
unlike anything they had ever known. 

"In a few weeks, Anna went away, and was 
married in princely style. As this is a true story, 
I cannot say that she lived happily all her days, 
for I do not know that she did. I can only hope 
that after her lonely youth she found something 
better than silks and diamonds, admiration and 
flattery, to crown and perfect her womanhood.'' 

" But that was better than to marry that boor, 
uncle," said Thornie. 

, " Much better ; because, as Anna and her hus- 
band were of the same rank, and therefore edu- 
cated much alike, they would agree in opinion 
upon many points upon which differences might 
have arisen between her and d'Aquino.^' 

" I am glad the viceroy was not successful in 
his interference," said Thornie. " I hope he failed 
eVery time he tried to meddle in that way." 

" The frightful misgovernment of the Spaniards 
filled Southern Italy with the brigands for which 
it has so long been famous. When every man's 



1Y6 THE TWO SICILIES. 

property and life were at the mercy of foreign 
plunderers, there was often no escape from cruel 
injustice and terrible' oppression, except flight to 
the mountains. The brigands found abundance 
of sympathy, because everybody knew that many 
of them had really been forced into crime, and -that 
there was not an Italian in the country, except 
the priests, who might not be driven to the same 
course of life. Like Robin Hood and his men, 
they usually stole from the rich and gave to the 
poor ; and so the down-trodden masses aided them 
in many ways. I will tell you a story about this 
wretched period, which I will call 

"the boy "WHO REFUSED TO BETRAY HIS FATHER. 

" Prince Marzio di Sangro belonged to the high- 
est nobility, and lived splendidly in Naples. He 
had a true-hearted wife and a darling little son, 
named Carlo, whom he loved better than himself. 
Although he was a nobleman, he sympathized deep- 
ly with the common people in their bitter wrongs ; • 
and, hoping to benefit them, he sent to the King 
of Spain a faithful account of the atrocities com- 
mitted by the then viceroy, with full proofs of the 
correctness of his statements. He hoped that the 
king would remove him and appoint a better man 
in his place, or that he would take away from him 
a part of the power which he had used so ill. 

" I do not suppose that the king would have 
cared a straw about the matter if the papers had 
reached him ; but they did not. The viceroy had 



PJIINCE MARZIO. I'll 

spies everywhere, and no package could easily be 
sent to Spain without his knowledge. He sus- 
pected this of Marzio^s, — the wrapper of which 
was described to him, — cunningly obtained pos- 
session of it, opened it, and read the papers which 
it contained. lie flew into a violent rage, and 
summoned Marzio to appear at the palace, intend- 
ing to arrest him on his arrival, and put him to 
death. But the prince had always been kind and 
generous ; and there were, even among the friends 
of the viceroy, those who were not willing he 
should perish. One of these, Lancilotto Mormile, 
succeeded in warning him of his danger ; and his 
servants and retainers, who almost adored him, 
assisted him to escape to the Abruzzi Mountains. 
The viceroy sought for him in and about the city, 
but only succeeded in ascertaining that he had 
silently and suddenly disappeared. 

''The robbers of the Abruzzi received him joy- 
fully, and he was soon at the head of a large band, 
who forced him to become their chief. He chose 
and fortified their fastnesses, warned them of dan- 
ger, assisted them when pursued, and tended them 
carefully when ill or wounded ; but he never stole 
a penny, and never lifted his hand against a human 
being except in self-defence. Still, his haughty 
name, his gracious manner, and his warm heart 
gave him a great influence over the men, and while 
he ruled, they seldom robbed or murdered, but 
lived by the ransoms of wealthy prisoners and by 
hiring themselves as soldiers for difficult and dan- 



ITS TEE TWO SiCXtlES. 

gerous services. The prince did not accept any 
of their gains. His wife gradually turned all his 
estate into money and placed it where he could 
obtain it at pleasure ; and so he had no temptation 
to burden his conscience and sully his reputation 
by wicked practices. 

" The princess wrote him often, and always 
cheerfully ; telling him she was well, and as happy 
as she could be while she knew him to be in dan- 
ger ; but she pined daily. She longed for his smile, 
longed for his kiss, longed for the dear home- 
warmth which had vanished at his flight. At 
length, she could not rise from her bed ; and, 
knowing that she had but a few hours to live, she 
called Carlo to her side, took a loving leave of 
him, and made him promise that he would live for 
and try to save his father. ' Live for him, save 
him, my child,' she repeated ; ' so shall you de- 
serve your mother's blessing.' Then she beckoned 
to Giuseppe, the faithful old steward ; and he led 
away the boy, who wept as if his heart would 
break. 

" For a few minutes Giuseppe stood silently 
watching him ; then he produced a suit of peasant 
garments, and told him he must put them on in 
place of his own. Carlo would have refused, but 
Giuseppe answered, ' It is the princess's wish.' 

" ' But where is Pietro ? ' asked Carlo. ' I can- 
not dress myself alone.' 

'* * Pietro must know nothing of this,' replied 
Giuseppe. ' You and I must do the best we can 
without him.' 



CARLO JOINS niS FATHER. 1*79 

*' ' But why ? ' persisted Carlo. * Why must I 
wear those torn and faded clothes ? Why must 
not Pietro know that I do so ? Where am I to go, 
or who am I to see ? Is there a new danger ? 
Tell me, good Giuseppe. Is it not enough that 
my mother is dying and my father is — ' 

" ' Hush/ replied Giuseppe, kindly, but firmly. 
' You are going away from here, my dear master ; 
but you must not know whither. .1 would gladly 
tell you all; but the princess has herself forbid- 
den it.' 

" ' And she knows all that will be done — where 
and why I am going — and all that is to come 
after ? ' 

" 'All,' said Giuseppe ; * and now let us hasten.' 

" Carlo sighed. a little as he took off his beauti- 
ful velvet suit embroidered with gold and sparkling 
with jewelled buttons, but he said nothing ' either 
then or for many hours after. When he was 
dressed, Giuseppe motioned him to follow him 
down a private stairway, and out into the grounds 
beneath a thick clump of ilex-trees ; then he 
strained him to his heart, and the child felt hot 
tears falling fast upon his forehead. ' The Virgin 
keep and bless you,' he whispered, and returned 
to the palace. 

" A moment after, a stately man, in the dress of 
the sbirri, glided out of the door which the old 
steward had entered, and twenty sturdy forms, 
similarly attired, sprang up from the grass where 
they had been lying. Not a word was spoken ; 



180 THE TWO SICILIES. 

but the gate flew open, the tall man — who proved 
to be the leader — gently pushed Carlo forward, 
his comrades closed around him, and all began a 
rapid march down the street. Outside the walls 
horses were waiting ; " and the tall man lifted the 
child to a saddle, sprang into one himself, and the 
whole troop followed his example, and dashed off 
to the south. 

** It was long past sunset ; and as the darkness 
increased, the leader grasped Carious bridle rein 
whenever the road was bad and there was danger 
of his horse^s stumbling. It was evident to him 
that he was being carefully guarded, and yet he 
trembled, and his heart beat quickly as he saw 
himself • rapidly neariug the mountains. 'Who 
were these men ? ' he asked himself. ' Whither 
were they carrying him ? Did his mother certain- 
ly know where he was ; or had Giuseppe deceived 
her or him ? No, that could not b.e ; but might 
not Giuseppe himself have been deceived ? Sud- 
denly a new and pleasant thought occurred to 
him. He had always been told that his father had 
gone to France ; but might he not really have 
gone to the Abruzzi, and was he not now on his 
way to him ? The more he thought of this, the 
more certain he was that he was right. If his 
father were truly in the mountains, it was danger- 
ous to try to join him ; and, in case he should be 
suspected and carried back, threats and a prison 
might terrify him into telling the whole matter. 
Yes, it was certainly so. He had lost one parent, 



CARLO JOINS EIS FATHER. 181 

and he was about to gain another. Was not the 
chief that parent himself ? It was too dark to see 
him distinctly, but he drew close to him and laid 
cue trembling hand upon his arm. It was seized 
eagerly, and kissed once and again. Oh, joy, 
joy, it was — it must be his father I 

*' Three hours^ riding took the party to the foot 
of the mountains, when all dismounted ; and a 
bleating as of sheep was heard in the darkness. 
It was a signal for help, which was quickly an- 
swered ; and the new-comers having taken charge 
of the horses, the chief and one of his followers 
crossed their hands and made a chair for Carlo, 
who was too tired to walk the whole distance. 
Occasionally, where the ascent was steep, they 
lifted or drew him up. At intervals, others took 
their places and carried the little fellow awhile. 
At last, the way became too difficult even for these 
practised mountaineers, without a light, and they 
kindled several torches, which they screened from 
observation by .stretching their cloaks partially 
round them. There were chasms to be leaped, 
sharp rocks to be climbed over, thick underbrush 
to push through ; and, finally, Carlo had to walk, to 
jump, to climb for himself. It was nearly mid- 
night when they reached a cave which was hidden 
from view by curtains of sheepskin, but which was 
easily found by men who made it their home. 
Within, a fire glowed invitingly, for the air was 
chilly, although it was still summer ; and a table 
was spread with cold ham, bread, cheese, and 



182 THE TWO SICILIES. 

wine, while a basket of chestmits stood ready for 
roasting on a brazier near by. The chief looked 
around, nodded pleasantly to a servant who was 
busily passing to and fro, and threw off his dis- 
guise. 'Father!' exclaimed Carlo, and sprang 
into his arms. ' My son I ' said Marzio, and held 
him close to his heart. 

^' The next day. Carlo was clothed in a neat 
coarse suit, with a leather belt in which he carried 
a pair of pistols and a dagger. But these he did 
not use. In ways which he never understood, 
books, pens, and paper, painting materials, and 
musical instruments, found their way to the cav- 
ern ; and his father spent some hours daily in 
teaching him all that he himself knew. Carlo had 
never been as happy ; and but for the loss of his 
gentle mother he would not have felt the least re- 
gret for the fine palace, the company, and the ser- 
vants which belonged to his old Neapolitan life. 
Fearless and active, yet tender and good, he was 
the pet and plaything of the whole band. Nobody 
minded either fatigue or danger if they were for the 
dear Carlino — the little Carlo. His bed was covered 
with superb leopard skins_, a service of solid silver 
stood on the block of wood which he used for a. 
dressing-table, and he had a picture of the Madon- 
na and Child painted by the best artist in Naples. 

''For three years Carlo lived thus in the moun- 
tains ; then, a terrible change occurred. A part 
of the band had been absent for several days, hav- 
ing let themselves to the Count of Sillena, who 



CARLO CAPTURED. 183 

was at war with one of his neighbors. Among 
them was a man named Castrone, whom Carlo 
loved dearly, and he started from the cavern to 
meet him on his return. The day was warm, and 
he lay down to rest under the shadow of the pines. 
The air was sweet with their fallen leaves, the 
wind drew through their tops with a lulling sound, 
and he dropped asleep. He woke with a feeling 
that he had done wrong to take a nap ; and, jump- 
ing up suddenly, he, in his bewilderment, took the 
wrong direction. He walked and walked, he ran, 
he shouted, he turned about once and again ; but 
the longer and faster he went, the further he was 
from the cavern. At last, his foot slipped, and he 
rolled over a precipice and caught against a tree 
almost at its foot. He was stunned by the fall, 
and for many minutes did not open his eyes. 
Then he rose with difficulty, and moved slowly 
away. This was unfortunate ; for, at that very 
moment, a party of soldiers who had pursued some 
brigands into the mountains, happened to be pass- 
ing, and saw him creeping from tree to tree. ' A 
prize ! a prize ! ' cried the leader. * Here's a little 
one in training — a robber in the bud I Let us 
nip it, and cheat the gallows for once ! ' 

*' By this time, the rest of the soldiers came up; 
and one of them, after looking carefully at the 
child, exclaimed, / A prize, indeed ! It is Carlo, 
the son of Prince Marzio 1 What think you the 
viceroy will give us for this capture ? ' 

'' ' Make him tell us where his father is, and we 
Bhall be rich for life,' said another. 



184 THE TWO SICILIES. 

'"Well thought of! Well thought of!' an- 
swered the rest. 

''Poor Carlo was dreadfully frightened ; but he 
remembered his mother's words, ' My son, save 
your father ; ' and he kept praying silently, ' Oh, 
beautiful Mary, and oh, dear Christ-child, help me 
not to speak ! ' 

" It was in vain that the soldiers threatened 
him ; in vain they beat him cruelly with the boughs 
which they broke from the trees along the way. In 
vain they pointed their pistols at him as if to fire. 
They could not get a word. 

" When they arrived at Naples, they carried the 
child to the viceroy, who paid them well for their 
booty ; and they went away joking about their 
profitable, day's work. Poor Carlo was exhausted 
with hunger and fatigue. His head and limbs 
ached, his mouth was parched, and his hands 
burned with fever ; but he still inwardly repeated 
his little prayer, and replied nothing to all the 
horrible threats of the viceroy. At last, he fainted 
and fell to the floor ; when the officers carried him 
to the Castelnuovo and put him into one of the 
dungeons. 

" When he came to himself enough to realize 
fully where he was, or to remember what he had 
gone through, he was lying on the stone floor of 
the cell, in perfect darkness. Racked with pain, 
and fearing lest in his agony he might betray his 
father, he wished he might die and go to dwell 
with the beautiful Christ-child, whom he pictured 



CARLO RESCUED, 185 

with loving eyes, and soft golden hair, and a great 
tender heart which would warm and heal him. 
Perhaps he would have died as he desired, but 
that the wife of the keeper, who had received 
many kindnesses from Prince Marzio, heard some- 
thing about the child, and declared she would see 
him in spite of all the viceroys in Christendom. 
She was shocked when she found how ill he was. 
She made him a little bed in one corner of the cell ; 
then she bathed him tenderly, and wet his head, 
and gave him cooling drmks, and held his hot 
hands, until he fell asleep, and dreamed he was ly- 
ing on his own leopard skins in the mountain cav- 
ern. 

" The viceroy was fearfully enraged at Carious 
generous fidelity, and resolved to put him to the 
torture ; but he was too ill to be moved the next 

* 

day, and Lancilotto Mormile — the same who had 
given his father warning — secretly informed the 
great families of Naples of the proposed cruelty. 
Most of them had no especial sympathy for Carlo, 
but they feared for themselves. If every child 
could be put to the torture to gratify the private 
malice of the viceroy, who then <?ould be safe ? 
So they bestirred themselves, and demanded the 
liberation of the boy with such firmness, that the 
tyrant was compelled to yield. Carlo was placed 
in the care of the Count of Aversa ; and in a few 
days he disappeared as quietly as his father had 
done before him. 

" Great was the joy of the brigands when their 



186 THE TWO SICILIES. 

dear Oarlino returned to them. They arranged a 
fine banquet ; and they sang songs, and told 
stories, and even then they could hardly express 
their pleasure. But the prince only held his boy 
to his heart, and resolved never to lose sight of 
him again — no, not for an hour. Carlo was him- 
self gay for a day or two ; but his fall, and the 
fatigue and terror which he had undergone, had 
given his constitution a shock from which he never 
recovered. He faded slowly ; and when the au- 
tumn flowers passed, he passed also. The brig- 
ands knew the wishes of their chief, although he 
had never expressed them ; and several among 
them risked their lives to lay their pet beside his 
mother in the family chapel of the princes of San 
Severe. 

'^ The death of his darling boy turned the 
thoughts of the prince entirely away from this 
world, and made him constantly long to fit himself 
for heaven, that so he might dwell there forever 
with his wife and child. He called his men to- 
gether and gave them some money and much good 
advice ; and, with the remainder of his fortune, 
he built a monastery in the mountain village near- 
est their haunts. He meant it for an asylum for 
such people as might be driven by cruel wrongs 
to a deed of sudden passion, and so have no choice 
but a death of shame or a life of robbery. He 
hoped, too, to win some of his old band to better 
ways ; and so he did not make his rules very 
strict or his house very gloomy. The sunshifie 



JKScnjPTIOX ON- TBE PltlXCE'S TOMB. 187 

loved to linger on its gray walls and to play over 
the great gardens, which afforded healthful em- 
ployment to the monks, and acceptably enriched 
their humble fare. The prince was abbot, and he 
lived many years, a blessing to old and young, to 
rich and poor. Nobody feared, everybody loved 
him. The starving came to him for work, the ig- 
norant for instruction, the penitent for counsel. 
Not less than sixty of his own brigands were par- 
doned through his influence, and became industrious 
and trusted laborers. At last, the good abbot fol- 
lowed the wife and son whom he had so mourned ; 
and when he was laid to rest with the chiefs of his 
haughty line, there was engraven upon his monu- 
ment only these words, ' A little child saved 
me.' '' 

No one spoke after uncle finished this story. 
We rose quietly and left the room. 



CHAPTEE IX. 



WAITOTG ON THE VEEAITOA — MAGGIE'S STOEY — THE OCEAH BATH —THE MEEMAID 
— THE MAEEIAGE — THE LITTLE EOSSI — EOMAIfO'S AITGEE — EOSSl'S MOTHEB 
DISAPPEAES — EOSSI OX THE SEASHOEE — EOSSI JUMPS IITTO THE SEA — PCEF 
THE FEATHEE — THE BEOKEN FLOWEE-POT — JIASANIELLO — THE SMUGGLED 
FLOUR — THE FESTIVAL — THE FIGHT IN THE MAEKET-PLACE — THE MOB — 
MASANIELLO'S MUEDEE — MASAOTELLO'S FUIfEEAL — EXCUESION TO BENETEIT- 
Tini — MES. MEECEE'S STOEY — THE MEETING OF THE WITCHES — THE LITTLB 
ANDEEA — ANDEEA'S NUESE EOBEETA — EOBEETA LEAVES ANDEEA IN THB 
GBOVE — THE WITCHES PEOPOSE TO TEY THEIE AETS UPON ANDEEA — ANDEEA'S 
LITTLE PEAYEE — FLIGHT OF THE WITCHES — SUSIE DAYTON. 



NE Wednesday afternoon, we — the Font- 
hill children — were sitting on the veran- 
da, waiting for uncle to give us a lesson. 
There was a caller with him, who, we 
thought, would never go. 

" Who will tell a story ? '' asked I. 
"I will,'^ said Maggie. "Uncle told me to 
make a free translation from the Italian, and I 
picked out a Sicilian fairy story. I like high- 
sounding names for things, and I call it 




THE OCEAN BRIDE." 

*' That is a pretty title,'' said Thornie. 
"I thought so," replied Maggie; " but don't 
interrupt me. Now I will begin. 

"The Italians used to believe in mermaids. 

188 



THE OCEAN BATH. 189 

Perhaps they believe in them now ; but I do not 
know about that. At any rate, they did once, as 
you shall hear. In the reign of King Roger of 
Sicily, a young man named Romano was bathing 
in the sea, and having a merry time splashing 
and dashing among the white-topped waves. The 
waves appeared to like the fun as much as he did ; 
for sometimes they curled slyly round his feet, 
and sometimes they broke over him with a roar, 
and tried to lift him oif the sand and carry him 
quite away with them. 

'' By and by, Romano felt a gentle touch ; and, 
supposing that a friend had seen him from the 
shore and meant to surprise him, he threw out his 
hand to grasp him ; but instead of catching at 
short, coarse locks, he wound his fingers in a mass 
of golden ringlets. He knew at once that he had 
caught a mermaid, and he swam to the shore, 
drawing her after him. When they came to the 
beach, Romano turned to his companion, and found 
that she was wonderfully lovely. There was the 
sweetest possible expression in her soft blue eyes, 
and her lips looked as if she were just going to 
speak kind and tender words. She wore a tunic 
of woven sea-weeds, all covered with bright blos- 
soms which looked like gems ; and beneath it, 
there appeared, not a fish's tail, but the prettiest 
little feet and ankles that ever were seen. Before 
Romano had looked twice at her, he was deeply 
in love ; and he folded his cloak carefully about . 
her, took her home, and married her. 



190 . THE TWO SICILIES. 

" Eomano called his wife ' Amphia.' They had 
a nice house close to the shore, which Amphia 
adorned with the most wonderful things from the 
bottom of the sea. Some of these things were cu- 
rious only, while some were both curious and 
beautiful. Many of the articles had never been 
shaped by mortal tools, but others were exquisite- 
ly fashioned by city artificers, and had gone down 
in wrecked ships torn by tempests. 

'' Amphia was always cheerful ; but she was too 
happy for description when a precious baby came 
to live with her among the corals and gems which 
glowed and sparkled all over her pretty dwelling. 
She would have loved the dear little thing just as 
well, I suppose, if he had been ever so homely ; 
but he was really the very loveliest infant that ever 
was born ; for, to the sweetness of ordinary ba- 
bies, he added the enchanting grace of the sea- 
nymphs. 

^' Romano was very, very happy with his beau- 
tiful wife, and very proud of his noble boy, whom 
he named ' Rossi.' To be sure, Amphia had 
never spoken, but she had put as much heart into 
her looks and motions as others did into their 
words. She was good-tempered, merry, and arch; 
and she knew how to amuse her husband the 
whole day, so that the hours flew by like minutes. 
But Romano had no steadiness, and could be in- 
fluenced by anybody, however foolish and igno- 
rant. Some of his companions, knowing this, 
teased him about his dumb wife, and pretended 



It OS SI ON THE SEASHORE. 191 

she was a spectre ; when he, instead of rebuking 
their impertinence, hurried home, and, brandishing 
his sword in a furious manner, threatened to kill 
his darling boy if Amphia did not immediately tell 
him who and what she was. 

*' The poor mother threw herself between her 
husband and son, looked tenderly at one and then 
Lit the other, and said, ' Romano, you have, by 
your impatient anger, lost a good wife ; farewell ! ^ 
whereupon she vanished, and Romano never saw 
her afterward. 

'-' Romano grieved for her bitterly, and it seemed 
to him that the wind and the sea repeated contin- 
ually her farewell cry. He cherished the little 
Rossi, and tried to console himself for the loss of 
the mother by his charming ways. He was grow- 
ing up good and brave, and his father was already 
thinking that he would make a famous man and a 
great warrior ; when, as he was playing on the 
beach, he heard a sweet voice saying, ' My dar- 
ling son I my darling son I ' 

'' His old nurse had often told him about his 
mother, so that he was not afraid ; and he drew 
nearer and nearer to the spot whence the loving 
tones seemed to come, until the waves kissed his 
little feet. Then, as he was watching, he saw a 
lovely face just above the water, and a pair of 
white arms stretched out lovingly as if to embrace 
him. Rossi hesitated a moment. He thought of 
his father, and his nurse, and his pretty play- 
room, and his garden full of roses, but he looked 



192 THE TWO SICILIES. 

again at his mother, and then he sprang among 
the billows, and was carried by the s'ea nymph 
down, down to her coral cave/^ 

*' ^Tis right pretty, Maggie,'^ said Thornie. " I 
wonder why girls translate so easily. I can dig 
into the grammar ; but my translations are as stiff 
as a poker, for I never can think of any easy turns 
of expression, and telling, picturesque words." 

" But, Thornie, dear, uncle told me to make a free 
translation,'' replied Maggie. "He would not 
accept this if it were a real exercise. But only 
look at Bessie, how graceful she is I '' 

Bessie, hearing her name spoken, came toward 
us, keeping a feather in the air by blowing. " Puff 
the feather I Puff the feather I " cried we ; and 
Maggie bjew it to Thornie, who sent it to me. I 
blew it to Bessie again ; and, she, not being ready 
for it, nearly let it fall. Thornie sprang to save 
it, and, throwing himself on the floor, gave it a 
vigorous breeze. Away it went nearly out of the 
veranda ; but Maggie saved it, and back it sailed 
to me. I puffed a trifle too hard, and off it went 
beyond Thornie, who was not in a position to do 
much ; and Maggie and I, afraid of its falling, 
dashed forward. Bessie ran after, and Thornie, 
more eager than any, rushed directly in front of 
us. Unluckily, he hit his foot against a cricket, 
and over he fell, knocking down Maggie and me. 
A book which I was holding flew from my hand, 
and hit a little wicker stand upon which stood a 
porcelain pot, containing a rare plant on the point 



MASAmELLO. 193 

of blossoming ; and stand, pot, and plant went 
down together. Tliis sobered us at once. For 
three months everybody in the house had watched 
the plant ; and now, just as it was about to open, 
it was doubtless ruined. We got up and stood for 
a moment, dreading to see the whole extent of the 
mischief; when Bessie stooped down and gently 
lifted the stalk. Joy, joy, it was unbroken I The 
pot was shivered, but the plant had escaped un- 
harmed. We were afraid to trust our unskilful 
fingers, and went in a body to Aunt Heywood, 
and told her just how careless and naughty we had 
been. Aunt did not scold us, although we cer- 
tainly were to blame, for we ought not to have 
gone to that part of the veranda. She told us that 
our fright was punishment enough, and carefully 
put the plant into another pot. Then Mrs. Sharp 
came with her broom, and uncle called us to the 
library, and told us about 

MASANIELLO, THE FISHERMAN OF NAPLES. 

'' Tommaso Aniello, or, as he is usually called, 
Masaniello, was born," said he, " at Amalfi, in 
1622. He was an odd-looking little fellow, with 
sharp black eyes, and long, light hair, which con- 
trasted strangely with his sunburnt cheeks. As 
soon as he was old enough, he tried to be a fisher- 
man ; but he was so poor that he was not always 
able to own or hire a boat, and at such times he 
could only earn a trifle by selling paper for wrap- 
ping up' the fish which others caught. Still, his 
13 



194 * THE TWO SICILIES. 

bright face and brave heart won for him just the 
bride he wanted ; and they set up housekeeping 
in a tumble-down house on the great market-place 
in Naples. '^ 

" Dear me, how could he support a wife ! ^' ex- 
claimed Thornie. 

'' Probably the wife worked as hard as her 
husband," replied uncle ; "but sometimes she Was 
a hinderance rather than a help. It was a rule 
that when certain things were carried into the city 
their owners should pay toll at the gate ; but she, 
having found flour a trifle cheaper outside the 
walls, bought a little, and tried to smuggle it in 
by rolling it up so as to look like an infant in long- 
clothes. One would suppose that as she was so 
wretchedly poor the officers would not have been 
very curious about the plump little baby ; but they 
were so, and they not only took away the flour, 
which she meant to make into nice cakes for her 
husband's supper, but put her into prison, beside. 
They kept her there for eight days, and made her 
pay a fine which took almost all the furniture that 
she had so carefully scraped together. This mis- 
fortune was particularly heavy just then, for a new 
tax had been levied, which threatened to reduce 
the poor to absolute starvation — this was a tax 
on fruit. Everything else had long been taxed 
doubly and trebly, and now this, their only hope, 
was taxed also," 

" How hard and cruel that must have seemed 1 " 
said Maggie. 



MASANIELLO. * 195 

" At that time, the lowest class of the popula- 
tion celebrated the festival of the Madonna of Car- 
mel by a military game. They built a castle of 
wood and canvas, in the middle of the market- 
place ; and this was defended b}^ young men, who, 
in tattered garments and bedaubed with red and 
black paint, were supposed to represent the hated 
infidels. They were attacked by a company of 
Christians, armed with long canes or reeds instead 
of swords, to which were attached fagots smeared 
with pitch, for burning the citadel at the proper 
time. 

" Early on the morning of July Yth, Masaniel- 
lo, who was to lead the attacking party, held a 
grand review of his forces, in the midst of which 
a number of fruit-sellers, who had come in from the 
country with donkey carts and baskets, began to 
dispute about the new tax. His heart was hot 
with wrath on account of the treatment of his 
wife, and bitter with hatred toward the merciless 
Spanish officers. He saw in the popular discon- 
tent a chance for revenge ; and he seized a ban- 
ner, mounted a horse, and led the way to the pal- 
ace, followed by a ragged, barefooted mob, armed 
with sticks and poles. Then he waved his ban- 
ner three times before the guard, calling out, 
' Long life to the King of Spain I Down with the 
taxes ! ' and ' Long life to the King of Spain I 
Down with the taxes I ^ was echoed on every 
side. 

''The mob, not obtaining the promises which it 



196 THE TWO SICILIES. 

desired, burst into the palace, broke out the win- 
dows, threw the furniture into the street, tore up 
the balustrades of the balconies, and with iron 
poles and hammers dashed in pieces the beautiful 
sculpture. By this time the insurrection was fair- 
ly begun ; and, although the viceroy made some 
promises which he did not intend to keep, it could 
no longer be controlled. The discontented vassals 
of the neighboring barons, robbers and vagabonds 
of all kinds, joined the mob, with many half-naked 
women and children who had never owned a de- 
cent garment or tasted a well-served meal. They 
procured arms from the shops, and fell upon the 
houses of such persons as had become rich at the 
expense of the poor, and upon the palaces of such 
of the nobility as had been cruel to their depend- 
ants. Day after day, piles of furniture, manu- 
scripts, precious pictures, and objects of curiosity 
and art, burned in the squares. Even little chil- 
dren dragged articles to these terrible bonfires, 
while their parents screamed ' This is our blood.' 

'' Masaniello ruled like a king ; but his power 
and splendor were short-lived. As the easiest 
method of getting rid of him, the viceroy hired 
some bravoes, or murderers, to assassinate him. 
The poor fellow was asleep in the convent of the 
Carmelites when they arrived upon their wicked 
errand. The noise awoke him, and he ran out to 
learn its cause ; when five shots were fired, and he 
fell, mortally wounded. The populace regretted 
its leader. They made for him a splendid funeral, 



BENE VENTUM. 197 

and laid him to rest among kings and nobles, in 
the church of Santa Maria del Carmine/' 

" That is a wonderful peasant story/' said 
Magg'ie. 

" Was the insurrection right ? '' asked Thornie. 

"As it was conducted, it was not right, — it 
was wholly wrong. You must remember, how- 
ever, in extenuation of its guilt, that it began with 
those who wanted food, clothing, fuel, the mere 
necessaries of life, and the first elements of educa- 
tion. Its movers rose against rulers who daily 
squandered before their eyes, in useless show and 
wicked indulgences, the money torn from them 
with cruel hands ; and they really believed that 
their king, did he but know this, would, at least, 
partially relieve them.'' 

" Did the peasants improve their condition at 
all, uncle, by the insurrection ? " 

'' Not in the least. The government broke .all 
the pledges made by it in a moment of fear, and 
went on in the old way." 

"I cannot bear to think of it," said Maggie. 
"Please give us something cheerful, uncle." 

" Yes ; I will tell you about my excursion to 

"beneventum. 

" Beneventum is thirty-four miles from Naples, 
and I went thither with some friends whom I had 
met accidentally a little while before. They were 
a gentleman named Bradley, his married daughter 
and her husband, Mr. and Mrs. Mercer, and his 



198 THE TWO SICILIES. 

niece, a charming little girl, named Susie Dayton. 
The drive was delightful. At one time the road 
passed through a richly cultivated country, shaded 
by elms and walnut-trees, and at another it ran 
through a wild and rugged defile. The city is 
built on the slopes of a hill, with the valley of the 
Sabbato on the south, and that of the Galore on 
the north. Its streets are narrow and steep, but 
they contain some fine buildings, and one of its 
gates is very beautiful. It is a marble arch, cov- 
ered with exquisite Roman carving. The views 
over the two valleys are lovely, and we greatly 
enjoyed our playful search for the mysterious 
walnut-tree, around which it was fabled that the 
witches of Southern Italy held their Sabbaths. 
After a great many jokes and a deal of laughter, we 
selected a gigantic old fellow, which we pretended 
to believe the right one ; and, sitting down under 
it, we took out our luncheon, and ate and drank, 
and made merry in the cool shadows.^' 

" ' Oh, how I wish we could have a story ! ' said 
Susie. ' Dear Aunt Mercer, can't you tell one ? ' 

" ' Yes, if you wish,' replied Mrs. Mercer. ' I 
can tell you about 

"the little ANDREA AND THE WITCHES OF BENE- 
VENTUM. 

" ' A great mauy years ago, — so many that no- 
body knows when it was, — the witches of South- 
ern Italy were acccustomed to meet around a huge 
walnut-tree, near Beneventum, to talk over the 



LITTLE ANDREA. 199 

mischief which they had done, and to plan such as 
they proposed to do. These meetings usually oc- 
curred on Friday nights, which accounts for the 
belief held there that Friday is an unlucky day, 
since they were, doubtless, very busy in finishing 
up their business and getting ready for the party. 

'"At that time, there lived in Beneventum a little 
boy named Andrea Porrone ; a bright, beautiful 
child, whose heart was full of laughter and whose 
eyes were full of light. The darling little fellow 
was also sweet-tempered and loving, and careful 
to say his prayers night and morning. 

'' ' Andrea had a nurse who meant to be good 
and faithful ; but she was betrothed to a young 
shepherd belonging to a neighboring town, whose 
visits were so rare that they were greatly prized. 
One Friday evening, the laundress, who had been 
home for a visit, brought her word that Federigo 
would be at Beneventum at sunset, and would 
meet her in the walnut grove where they had met the 
last time he came. Poor Eoberta was in a deal 
of trouble." Her mistress was away, and had left 
orders that Andrea should not go out ; and she 
knew very well that he would cry himself ill if 
she should not be there to give him his goat^s 
milk and put him to sleep in his little bed. But 
how could she stay at home when her lover would 
wait and watch for her ? It would be so hard for 
her, and then he might be so angry that he would 
refuse to conie again. Roberta was tempted to 
disobey. The evening was fine. There was not a 



200 THE TWO SICILIES, 

cloud in the sky, the air was soft, and althougl, 
there would be no moon, yet the stars would winfe 
and glitter with countless eyes. She must go — 
she would go — she would take Andrea with her. 

'' ' She put on her holiday suit, and, wrapping 
Andrea carefully in his little mantle, took him in 
her arms and hurried to the gr6ve. Federigo was 
already there ; and she laid Andrea under a tree, 
and chatted gaily with him, fixing the wedding 
day, and laying plans for their housekeeping. A'i 
last Federigo said, " Come out into the starlight, 
Roberta. I have brought you a present, and you 
can't even see what it is under these thick leaves. '' 

*' ' '' A present, dear Federigo ? '' replied Rober- 
ta ; ''how kind you are ! You have always been 
better to me than I deserve. '^ 

" ' When they were out of the grove, Federigo 
opened a box and showed his betrothed a pair of 
heavy ear-rings, which sparkled even in the imper- 
fect light. 

" ' '' Oh, how beautiful ! '' exclaimed Roberta. 
" How can I — '' 

" ' She was interrupted by a terrible sight, which 
almost took away her breath. The witches were 
beginning to gather, and they appeared fairly to 
fill the air as they rode on their broomsticks. As 
soon as they touched the ground, they dashed into 
the grove, and Roberta dared not go after her 
charge. 

*' ' " Oh, what shall I do I '' she said to herself; 
for she was afraid to speak aloud. *' Oh, what 



LITTLE ANDREA, ■ 201 

shall I do ! The darling is lost I lost I lost I The 
witches will catch him, and kill him, and boil him 
in their great caldrons ! Oh, how could I disobey 
and bring him here ! '^ 

** ' Meantime, the witches found the little An- 
drea, as Roberta feared they would do. They 
could see quite as well in the night as in the day- 
time ; and they looked at him, one after another, 
and spoke together of his lovely curls, his broad, 
white forehead, his rosebud mouth, and his round, 
fair limbs. " He must be one of us,'' said a prim 
old hag. "He shall be our errand boy, and we 
will give him a little broomstick, and let him ride 
like ourselves.'' 

'' ' So saying, the witch took from her pocket 
a bottle of dark liquid, one drop of which on a 
person's eyelids would enable him to perceive 
countless things unseen by an ordinary mortal, 
and a kerchief, which, if waved above a person's 
head, would give him the witch nature. As she 
stooped to use them, however, the child, partly 
awakened, and fancying that he had just been put 
to bed, clasped his hands, and said softly, "Please, 
dear Christ-child, keep me from harm, and make 
me good and happy like you." 

" ' Then the witches gave a shriek, for the name 
of Christ was to them a word of fear. They 
thought no more of the sleeping child, nor of 
their grand council, nor of the dance they were to 
have around the great walnut-tree. All they de- 
sired was to get away ; and they sprang on their 



202 THE TWO SICILIES. 

broomsticks, and vanished. As soon as they were 
out of sight, Roberta snatched up her little charge, 
and ran with him, unharmed, back to the castle. 

" ' Thank you. Aunt Mercer,' said Susie. ' 'Tis 
a nice story ; but there isn't a bit of it true, is 
there ? ' 

'' ' It is not true as I have told it,' replied Mrs. 
Mercer, ' because there never were any witches ; 
but the spirit of it is truthful, for prayer is our 
great help and dependence in all our trials and 
dangers.' 

'* ' Mother has often told me so,' said Susie ; 
' and I mean to remember it always.' " 

" Wasn't Susie a sweet little thing ? " asked 
Maggie. 

^' She was, indeed, one of the most lovable 
children I have ever seen," replied uncle. " No 
matter how cold, or warm, or tired, or hungry 
she was, she made no talk about it, and so, when- 
ever the party divided, as we often did, each divi- 
sion wanted Susie to join it. She thus saw a great 
deal more than she would have done if she had 
beeii restless and troublesome, and enjoyed many 
pleasures which otherwise would not have fallen 
to her lot. At another time, I will relate some 
anecdotes of her patience and courage." 



CHAPTEE X. 



THORNIE'S AKatTMEST — MILT0N''S COTTAGE AT CHALFONT — 'BTmNS"'S HOUSE AT 
DUMFRIES — KHYXLOir — KOUTHEY'S HOUSE — CHAKLES OP ANJOU — WAR OF 
THE SICILIAN VESPERS — FESTIVAL AT PALERMO —MASSACRE OF THE FRENCH 
— CHARLES'S WRATH — THE FEMALE SENTINELS — PETER OF ARAGON — THE 
SUCCESSFUL STRATAGEM — FREDERIC OF ARAGON — BOCCACCIO — CHICHIBIO AND 
THE CRANK — GIOTTO AND THE PIG — GIOTTO AND THE LAWYER — THE FAINTER 
8IU0NE. 




HIS morning, Thoi'nie and I were prepared 
for a lesson before uncle was ready to give 
it, and somehow we took up the old subject 
of the poverty of poets. 




MILTON'S COTTAGE AT CHALFONT* 



"Look at tliis,'^ said Thornie, showing me a 
picture of Milton's cottage at Chalfont. 

203 



204 



THE TWO SICILIES. 



"Milton was certainly one of the greatest of 
poets, and he lived in a house like that. 

'* Then see this picture of Burns's house in 
Dumfries. 




BUUNS'S HOUSE, DUJH'RIES. 



*' This doesn't look much like Fonthill," contin-- 
ued Thornie, triumphantly. 



*' Scots, wlia liae wi' Wallace bled, 
Scots, wham Bruce has aften led, 
Welcome to your gory bed, 
Or to victory ! " 

sang Maggie, as she put her head between us. 



MBS. HE MANS. 



205 



"Here is Rhyllon, where Mrs. Heraans lived 
when she was in AVales." 

"Dear Mrs. Ilemans ! '' I exclaimed, "how 
beautiful and gifted and good she was I '' 




" And what a wonderful child she was/^ said 
Maggie. " Her sister writes that she bad a pas- 
sion for Shakspeare when she was only six years 
old, and that she used to forget everything else 
while she read his plays, perched among the 
branches of an old apple-tree. She could repeat 



206 



THE TWO SICILIES. 



whole pages of poetry after having read them but 
once, and she wrote really good lines at the age 
of eleven. I feel miserably small and ignorant 
when I think of it/^ 

" Mrs. Hemans had genius, which we have not/' 
answered Thornie. " Southey had genius, also, I 
suppose, and just look at the picture of his 
house/' 




SOUTH i;y's nousH. 



" But, poor as the house looks,'' said I, " it was 
running over with books. Southey's library was 
one of the most valuable in Great Britain." 



WAR OF THE SICILIAN VESPERS. 20"! 

" Kate ! Kate ! '' cried Bessie ; and by the time 
I had attended to her little wants, uncle was at 
his desk waiting to tell us about 

CHARLES OF ANJOU. 

" Charles of Anjou, brother of Louis IX. of 
France/^ said he, '' conquered the two Sicilies. He 
was tall, with an olive complexion and a great 
nose. He talked little, slept little, and cared but 
little for shows and merry-makings. He was en- 
vious and suspicious, avaricious and cruel. 

*'His rule, especially in Sicily, was terrible. 
There was scarcely anything that he did not inter- 
fere with, and his tyranny was so far-reaching and 
universal, that the poorest goat-herd could not es- 
cape it.'^ 

*' How could the people bear it ? ^ ■ asked Thor- 
nie. *' Why didn't they rise, as we rose against 
England?" 

*' They did rise after a time, as you shall hear. 
Their revolt is called 

" THE WAR OF THE SICILIAN VESPERS. 

" It is one of the most celebrated which is men- 
tioned in history. Easter day was kept as a fes- 
tival by the Sicilians, and was a famous time for 
love-making and marrying. The Palermitans took 
their pleasure on a plain extending from the city 
to the church of the Holy Ghost, half a mile dis- 
tant, -— a charming spot, carpeted with thick, fine 
grass, and, at that season, bright with a profusion 



208 THE TWO SICILIES, 

of blossoms. There, after the religious services 
were over, tables were spread ; and the young 
people danced, and sung, and played merry games, 
while their elders sat under the trees and discussed 
the weather, which was almost the only subject 
they were permitted to talk about. The vesper 
bell was just ringing on the Easter Tuesday of 
March, 1282, when a beautiful girl of noble birth 
walked toward the church with her bridegroom 
and family. She passed near a group of French- 
men ; and one of them, named Drouet, insulted her 
so painfully, that she fell fainting into the arms of 
her bridegroom. Frantic with rage, he shouted, 
' Death to the French ! ' and the cry was caught 
up and repeated all over the plain. Drouet was 
instantly struck down, and of two hundred of his 
countrymen on the spot, not one escaped. The 
poor Sicilians, so long trampled upon and crushed 
to the very wearth, now arose in earnest. They 
searched Palermo through and through, and all 
who could not pronounce the words, ' ceci ciceri/ 
were instantly slain.'' 

" Why was that. Uncle Paul ? '' 

" Because no foreigner can pranounce those 
words like a Sicilian ; and in that way the Paler- 
mitans could discover the French in the dark- 
ness." 

" And what did they do next ? " 

" The same night the Palermitans collected upon 
the festival ground, now trampled, and torn, and 
soaked with the blood which had been shed upon 



THE FEMALE SENTINEL. 209 

both sides. They carried great blazing torches ; 
and, although they were soiled and tired with the 
terrible strife, their faces showed a desperate reso- 
lution which nothing could change. After much 
talking, they abolished the monarchy and declared 
a republic ; and then the ancient banner of Paler- 
mo — a golden eagle in a red field — was once 
again unfurled upon the city walls, to the sound 
of trumpets, and kettle drums, and joyful shouts 
of ' The Republic and Liberty ! ' '' 

" Did the rest of the Sicilians join the patri- 
ots ?" asked Thornie. 

" Yes ; when they learned what had been done, 
they rose, also.'^ 

'' What did Charles say to that ? '' 

" He strode up and down his apartment, gnaw- 
ing a stick, in fruitless rage, when he first heard 
the disagreeable news. As soon as he could com- 
mand himself sufficiently, he gave orders for the 
siege of Messina. The brave Alaimo da Lentini 
commanded there, and he inspired the inhabitants 
with his own courage. Men, women, and children 
worked on the walls and fortresses in the very face 
of the enemy, and carried bread and wine to the 
laborers through showers of arrows and lances. '' 

*' Were there many soldiers in the city, uncle ? " 

" No ; and, therefore, the women took their 
places when they were needed as sentinels, and 
watched while the tired troops slept. One night, 
Dina and Chiarenza were pacing up and down 
their beat, and Dina thought she heard a stealthy 
14 



210 . THE TWO SICTLIES. 

tread, and a light crackling as of dried twigs. 
There was no moon, and thick clouds hung low in 
the sky, so that nothing could be seen at a little 
distance. The fearless girl lay down on the wall/ 
and put her ear to the stone-work. She sprang 
up with the cry, ' The French ! The French ! ' 
and instantly began to roll forward a great stone 
which had been placed there for the purpose of be- 
ing hurled upon advancing troops. It went fly- 
ing downward, and a shriek from below told that 
it had found its mark. Dina felt as if the strength 
of a dozen men lay in her single arm. She 
snatched up an iron bar, and sent stone after stone 
from the battlements, while her comrade, Chiaren- 
za, rang the alarm bell.'' 

" What a fright it must have given the people I " 
said Maggie. 

^' Yes ; but the Messinese slept in their gar- 
ments with their armor beside them, and scarcely 
had the first hurried tones been struck from the bell, 
when they went pouring out of the gate. After 
hard fighting, they entirely routed the French, and 
chased them to their tents." 

" Those ladies saved the city. How happy 
they must have been ! " said Maggie. 

" Probably there were hundreds of deeds per- 
formed by women during the siege which were 
more truly heroic than this ; but this was recorded 
because its success was so striking and imme- 
diate." 

"What were the Sicilians doing outside the 
city?" 



PETER OF ARAGOX. • 211 

" They were trying* to decide whether they 
would continue the republican forms which they 
had adopted, or offer the sovereignty to Peter, 
king of Aragon, in Spain/^ 

" How foolish I before they were rid of one for- 
eign king, to think of oifering themselves to 
another ! " 

" They not only thought of it, but they^actually 
did it, Thornie/' 

" What sort of a man was Peter, uncle ? " 

" He was tall and strong in person, and in char- 
acter he was fierce, cunning, and revengeful, with- 
out justice and without mercy. The Sicilians re- 
ceived him as if he were the best of men. They 
sang, and danced, and feasted, and illuminated, 
and appeared to think themselves vastly fortunate 
in being permitted to crown the tyrant." 

" Did Peter march against Charles ? " 

''Yes ; but Charles still lingerec^ before Messi- 
na, and Alaimo determined to get rid of him by a 
stratagem. He selected some of his most active 
and fearless young men, and divided them into four 
bodies. These he sent in the evening, by differ- 
ent roads, to a palace which had been taken and 
fortified by the French. Three of these divisions 
stationed themselves on three sides of the build- 
ing ; while the fourth, under the immediate direc- 
tion of the chief, Lucio, hid in an olive orchard. 
The moment that the rising moon became visible, 
the three former bands shouted, ' Christ already 
conquers ! Christ already conquers I ' and rushed 



212 THE TWO SICILIES. 

upon the palace. They quickly carried it, and 
such of the garrison as escaped their swords fell 
under those of Lucio. 

"As soon as this was done, the victors sig- 
nalled the city, and the people made a terrific 
noise. The bells were rung, conchs and trumpets 
were blown, pots and kettles, shovels and pans 
were struck together, and amidst cries of * To 
the camp ! To the camp ! ' the Messinese hurled 
themselves upon the enemy. The surprised French 
rushed hither and thither, half naked and half 
armed. The men were without leaders, the lead- 
ers, without men. In vain th^ battle-cries and the 
thundered commands. All was confusion, and 
each one struck as he could. Charles himself 
started from sleep and fled toward the sea, hear- 
ing only the cry, ' To the camp I To the camp ! ' 
from hundreds of voices and various quarters, un- 
til he was fairly awake ; and then he was ashamed 
of himself, and%e hurried back again and tried to 
marshal his soldiers. '' 

" Did the Sicilians beat ? Did they really drive 
the French away, uncle ? '^ 

" No, that was impossible with so small a force ; 
but the bold and unexpected movement helped to 
discourage Charles, and soon after he-deft Sicily in 
haste and disorder.'' 

'* Was that the end of the war ? " 

"No, Thornie ; it lasted many years and occa- 
sioned .terrible suffering ; but it made the Sicilians 
active, fearless, and patriotic." 



CmCEIBIO AND THE CRANE. 



^13 



" Did they like Peter as well as they expected 

to?^' 

" They did not like him at all; and they finally 
placed his son Frederick on the throne/' 

"Was Frederick abetter man than his father f 

" Far better. He was almost worshipped by 
the people, who enjoyed under his rule a measure 
of prosperity before almost unknown." 

" The Sicilies were separated for a time, I sup- 
pose, uncle.'' 

" Yes ; the house of Anjou continued to reign at 
Naples, although driven out of Sicily. 

" Some distinguish-ed men lived during the rule 
of this family, among whom was 



"BOCCACCIO. 

"He was the son of a Florentine merchant, and 
is famous for the elegance and harmony of his Ital- 
ian prose. I will repeat to you one of his stories. 

"CHICHIBIO AND THE CRANE. 

" Currado Gianfiliazzi having taken a crane one 

day with his hawk, and 
finding it to be young 
and fafc, sent it home to 
his cook, Chichibio, with 
orders to prepare it for 
supper, for himself and 
a friend. 
^-^^«,^ " The cook, a poor 

^■''^^P* simple fellow, placed it 
upon the spit, and when 




214 THE TWO SICILIES, 

it was nearly roasted, it chanced that a woman of 
the neighborhood, named Brunetta, whom he much 
admired, came into the kitchen and earnestly 
begged him to give her a leg. He replied, mer- 
rily, ' Madam Brunetta, you shall have no leg 
from me/ 

" Nettled at this, she retorted, ' If you do not 
give it me, I will no longer be friendly with you.' 

''The dispute was carried to a great height be- 
tween them, and to quiet her, Chichibio was forced 
to comply with her request. 

" The crane was, therefore, served in this im- 
perfect condition, which made Currado wonder so 
much that he sent for the cook and asked what 
had become of the other leg. He very foolishly 
replied, ' Cranes have only one leg, sir.' 

" 'What does the man talk of? ' cried Currado, 
in great wrath. 'Only one leg I Eascal, dost 
think I never saw a crane before ? ' 

"Chichibio still persisted in his denial. 'Be- 
lieve me, sir, it is as I say ; and I will prove it to 
you whenever you please, upon living cranes.' 

" ' Well,' said Currado, who did not choose to 
have any more words then, out of regard to his 
friend, ' as you undertake to show me a thing 
which I never saw or heard of before, I am con- 
tent to make proof thereof to-morrow morning ; 
but if I find it otherwise, I will make you remem- 
ber it the longest day you have to live.' 

" There was an end of the matter for that night, 
and the next morning, Currado, whose passion 



CHICHIBIO AND THE CRANE, 215 

would scarcely suffer him to get any rest, rose be- 
times, ordered his horses, and took Chichibio along 
with him toward a river where he used, early in 
the morning, to find plenty of cranes. * We shall 
soon see,' said he, ' whether you spoke truth or 
not, last night/ 

" Chichibio, finding his master's wrath not at all 
abated, and that he was now to make good his 
careless words, rode on first with all the fear im- 
aginable. Gladly would he have made his escape, 
but he saw no possible means, and he was contin- 
ually looking about him, expecting everything 
that appeared to be a crane with two legs. But 
upon approaching the river he chanced to see a 
number of cranes, each standing upon one leg, as 
they are accustomed to do when sleeping, where- 
upon, showing them quickly to his master, he 
said, ' Now, sir, you may see for yourself that 
cranes have only one leg. Look at those yonder, 
if you please.' ■ j, 

''Currado, beholding the cranes, replied, 'Yes, 
sirrah ! but stay awhile and I will show you that 
they have two.' Then riding up to them, he cried 
out, ' Shough ! Shough ! ' which made them set 
down the other foot, and after taking a step or 
two, they all flew away. Currado then turned to 
the cook and said, ' Well, you lying knave ! are 
you now convinced that they have two legs ?* 

'' Chichibio, quite at his wit's end, and scarcely 
knowing whether he was on his head or his heels, 
suddenly answered, ' Yes, sir ; but you did not 



216 THE TWO SICILIES. 

shout out ' Shough ! Shough ! ' to that crane last 
night, as you have done to these. If you had, it 
would have put down the other leg as these did 
now/ 

" This pleased Ourrado so much, that, turning 
his wrath into mirth and laughter, he said, ' Chi- 
chibio, you are right. I should have done so, in- 
deed.' 

" By this comical and unexpected answer, Chi- 
chibio escaped a sound drubbing, and made peace 
with his master.'' 

" He was a droll fellow to pretend that if his 
master had said, ' Shoo ! Shoo ! ' to the roasted 
crane, it would have put down its other leg. Are 
all Boccaccio's stories as amusing as that, uncle?" 

" No, Thornie ; they are neither good nor pleas- 
ant to read, and I have told you of him only be- 
cause he is so celebrated, that you will like to 
know when and where he lived, and whether he 
was a poet or prose witHef*." 

" Were there good painters in those days ? " I 
aslfed. 

''There were several in the reign of Eobert the 
Wise, a grandson of Charles. One of them became 
very celebrated. His name was 

'' GIOTTO. 

"He was born near Florence, but King Robert 
invited him to the Neapolitan court, and treated 
him with the utmost distinction. Giotto was the 
first of modern artists to express feeling and ex- 



GIOTTO. 21 1 

Libit character with his brash, and he was, there- 
fore, the first successful portrait painter. The 
greatest enthusiasm was felt for him throughout 
Italy, and wherever he went, he was received with 
the highest honors. 

" Shall I tell you about 

" GIOTTO AND THE PIG ? '' 

" Oh yes, uncle ; yes indeed,^^ cried we all. 

" Once, Giotto, dressed in his best, was on his 
way to a festival accompanied by some friends, 
when a dirty pig rushed between his legs and 
threw him into the mire. He scrambled out, arid 
laughing heartily as he saw himself bespattered 
from head to foot, exclaimed, ' Ah, brute ! you are 
quite right ; for I, who have gained so much money 
by your bristles, have never given you even a dish 
of soup ! ' '' 

" What did he mean by saying that he had made 
money out of the pig's bristles ? ^' 

"He was thinking of his brushes, which were 
made of pig's bristles, I suppose. '' ^ 

" Can't you tell us another anecdote, uncle ? ^' 

" Yes ; I can tell you a spicy one about 

" GIOTTO AND THE LAWYER. 

" Giotto was small in person and homely in 
face. His frjend Rabatta, a very learned lawyer, 
was no better-looking than himself. Both had pos- 
sessions in Mugello, a little way out of Florence ; 
and so they hired some poor horses at a low rate, 



218 THE TWO SICILIES. 

and started one summer afternoon to learn how 
matters were going there. A sudden storm com- 
ing on, they betook themselves for shelter to the 
house of a peasant near by ; and when they were 
tired of waiting, they borrowed of their host two 
worn-out pilgrim cloaks and two battered old hats, 
in which they returned to Florence. After riding 
awhile, Rabatta, arrfused at his companion's rag- 
ged and muddy garments, said, jokingly, ' Oh, Gi- 
otto, if a stranger were now to meet us, could he, 
looking on you, believe it possible that you are 
the greatest painter in the whole world ? ' 

^' 'Certainly,' returned Giotto, archly, 'certain- 
ly ; if, looking upon your worship, he could be- 
lieve it possible that you know your A B C '' 
" Why, Giotto was a wit as well as a painter I '' 
"Yes; and he was something that is better 
than either. He was a generous, warm-hearted 
man. One cannot help loving him, if only for his 
noble treatment of the Neapolitan painter, 

" SIMONE. 

" Simone was a favorite with the Neapolitans 
before Giotto's arrival at court ; but the genius 
and accomplishments of the latter so dazzled his 
countrymen, that they appeared almost to forget 
him. Simone was too manly to complain, and too 
just not to acknowledge the superior merit of the 
stranger ; but still, he believed and said that his 
own works deserved some attention. Without 
asking any favors, he simply placed two or three 



GIOTTO AND SIMONE. 219 

of his pictures in Giotto's way. The latter ex- 
amined them carefully, inquired their author, and 
recommended him so warmly to King Robert, that 
the monarch patronized him at once. 

'' Simone, who was ill from grief at the neglect 
he had experienced, speedily recovered his health. 
He became a disciple of the thoughtful, kind- 
hearted Florentine, and lived in great credit at 
Naples for many years. ^' 

'^ That was generous, indeed. I am glad that 
you told us that, Uncle Paul, for now I shall have 
such a pleasant recollection of him, ^' said Maggie. 

" I like to close with something agreeable, ^^ re- 
plied uncle. 

' ' I suppose that means that the lesson is fin- 
ished, uncle./^ 

Uncle nodded. 

"Then, girls, put on your boots, and let us go 
to the glen," said Thornie. 



CHAPTER XI. 



SPECKLEDWING'S holiday suit — BESSIE'S PLATS -WITH SPECKLEDWIKG — MELAN- 
CHOLY DEATH OF SPECKLEDWmG — AITXONIO THE SMITH — ANTONIO FALLS IN 
LOVE WITH VIOLETTA — ANTONIO BECOMES A PAINTEE — ANTONIO MAEKIES 
VIOLETIA — LORENZO THE ENGEAYEE — THE FUNNY AKREST— THE WAX MODEL 
— THE PAINTEE D' AMATEICE AND HIS BEAUTIFUL WIFE — D' AMATEICE'S WIFE 
IN DANGER — THE FRIGHTFUL LEAP — POLIDORO AND HIS FRIENDS — TONNO 
THE PUPIL — MUEDEE OF POLIDOEO — TONNO'S PUNISHMENT — THE NEAPOLITAN 
MAIDEN — THE FATAL BLOW — SALVATOE EOSA — BEATEN BY THE MONKS — 
SALVATOE AND THE PEINCE — SALVATOE A POET — THE -tlTTLE GIOEDINO — THH 
PAINTED SHIET — ATTACK OF EIONEEO — GIOEDINO'S PETITION — REPULSE OF 
THE ENEMY — GIOEDINO'S HONOES —GIOEDINO ADOPTED BY THE DUKE — GI- 
OEDINO'S SUCCESS. 



iRS. SHARP had been married once, and 
had a good husband and a dear little 
daughter, named Susie. The'y both died 
when Susie was about Bessie's age ; and, 
as Mrs. Sharp fancied a great resemblance 
between the two children, she loved Bes- 
sie very much. There was no amount of trouble 
that she would not take for her, and she would, ai 
any time, rise an hour earlier in the morning, or 
sit up an hour later at night, in order to add to 
her pleasures. 

Bessie was fond of my favorite hen. Speckled- 
wing, and handled her as she would have done a 
kitten. Mrs. Sharp made Speckledwing a little 
scarlet hat trimmed with two fine feathers from 

220 




MELANCHOL T DEA TH OF SPECKLED WING. 221 

the tail of Prince Albert, the cock, and a scarlet 
cloak, and black scarf; and every day Bessie 
dressed her in these fine things, put her in the 
doll's buggy, and took her out for an airing. If it 
were sunny, she went into the garden or orchard ; 
and if it were wet, she went up and down the ve- 
randa. Bessie was so gentle that Speckledwing 
never grew tired or cross, nor was she the least 
jealous when Snowball took her place in the car- 
riage or in her mistress's lap. Then, she ate from 
Bessie's hand, and liked to be fed quite as well as 
Bessie liked to feed her. There was no end to the 
make-belief in which she figured ; for sometimes 
she was Bessie's little daughter, and sometimes 
her little niece ; sometimes her dear mother, some- 
times her little maid, and sometimes a lady mak- 
ing a call. 

Bessie is so quiet and loving that it seems as if 
nobody could have the heart to break in upon her 
bright little world ; but one day a village boy, a 
coarse-minded, cruel child, put an end to Speckled- 
wing. He had come to Fonthill upon an errand, 
and aunt supposed he had gone away. We were 
just assembling in the library for a lesson from 
uncle, when we heard Bessie scream. The sounds 
came from the direction of . the cistern, and all 
rushed thither. There, in the water, was the dead 
fowl, and the boy was running off as fast as his 
feet could carry him. Uncle, however, was fleeter 
than he. He overtook him before he reached the 
gate, brought him back, and compelled him to 



222 THE TWO SICILIES. 

confess the whole affair. He had found Bessie 
playing with Speckledwing", and, just to tease and 
trouble her, had snatched the hen away, and shak- 
en and pulled her about, plucking a feather here 
and there, and making her cry pitifully. Bessie 
wept and prayed, but to no purpose ; when she 
threatened to tell Mrs. Sharp, at which the tyrant 
became enraged, and plunged his victim into the 
water, where he held her until she was dead. The 
boy was very unwilling to tell the story, — as he 
might well be, — but uncle held him firmly by the 
shoulder, and whenever he paused made him go 
on before all the family Ben and Joseph included. 
Then, when he had finished, he forced him to kneel 
down and ask Bessie's pardon. Bessie forgave 
him, although I do not think she really knew what 
she said, for she was crying and sobbing violently 
in aunt's arms, and it was nearly an hour before 
she could be comforted sufficiently for uncle to 
give us our lesson. 

He began with the story of 

THE NEAPOLITAN SMITH AND HIS LITTLE BETROTHED.* 

*' After Giotto and Simone/' said he, '' about 
whom I have already told you, the art of painting 
did not advance much until the appearance of -An- 
tonio Solario. He was born in 1382, at Chieti, in 
the Abruzzo Citra,, and he lived in a cottage 
thatched with reeds and twigs, and lighted and 
aired by two holes in the wall. The cottage had 
no chimney, so the fire was kindled on some stones 



ANTONIO THE SMITE. 223 

placed for the purpose, in the centre of its clay 
floor. A kettle or two, a few stools, a rough ta- 
ble, some piles of leaves covered with sheep-skins, 
and a rude crucifix, formed its furniture. A noble 
white dog stretched himself at length before the 
door, and the donkey and pig went in and out as 
they pleased. 

'' But this discomfort did not disturb Antonio, 
who, through the warm season, took his meals of 
hard bread, goat's cheese, roasted chestnuts, and 
pine seeds, among his goats in the corner of an old 
Roman ruin. His highest ambition was to become 
a smith or tinker, or possibly a little of both ; and 
having served an apprenticeship at this mixed busi- 
ness, he set off for Naples. There, sometimes 
striking hard blows on the glowing iron, mending 
a pan for an old woman, or an ear-ring for a young 
one, he was as merry as a cricket the whole day 
long. 

'' By and by, Antonio stopped singing, and 
whistling, and joking with his neighbors, and grew 
sad and anxious. He did not tell anybody then 
what was on his mind, but afterward he confessed 
the whole matter. Colantonio del Fiore — the then 
only painter of distinction in Southern Italy — 
had a daughter who was as pretty as it was possi- 
ble to be, and who was as good and gentle as she 
was beautiful. Every day, when she tripped light- 
ly to and from school, she made the whole street 
bright with her presence, and it was a pleasure 
only to meet her on the way. One morning she 



224 THE TWO SICILIES, 

broke the clasp of her mass-book, and she stopped 
at Antonio's work-shop, — which consisted only of 
a forge and a few tools in the open street, — and 
asked him to mend it. No sooner had the smith 
looked into Violetta's happy eyes, and seen her 
rosy lips with smiles lurking in every curve, than 
his heart was gone. He begged her to stop until 
the work should be finished, that it might be sure 
to please her ; and, in order to keep her at his 
side, he told some of his gayest stories and sang 
some of his best songs. Violetta waited willingly, 
for she was almost as much pleased with the smith 
as the smith was with her. She thought he was 
the most entertaining person she had ever seen, 
and fancied that his voice was the sweetest she 
had ever heard. After that, it was truly wonder- 
ful how often they met,— by accident, of course, 

— and Antonio had such a surplus of pleasant 
things which Violetta must accept, just to help 
him get rid of them. A box which he kept near 
his forge appeared really to grow clusters of fine 
cherries, early figs, and golden grapes ; and oh, 
joy ! one day there popped out a lovely white 
dog. 

"At some of these interviews, Antonio forgot 
to sing and tell stories, and spoke of serious things, 

— at least, it appears probable that he did so, — 
for one afternoon, Violetta burst into del Fiore's 
studio, exclaiming, 'Dear father, will you believe 
that I have had an offer I ' 

" ' Of a tart, or an orange, I suppose. 



ANTOXIO BECOMES A PAINTER. 225 

" ' No indeed, father ; an offer of marriage, just 
such as grown ladies have.' 

" ' Hum I hum I who has been goose enough to 
make you an offer of marriage ? ' 

'* ' Antonio Solario, the handsome smith by the 
Capuan gate ; and he isn't a goose either, by your 
leave, father.' 

" ' And what did you tell him ? I should like to 
know.' 

" ^ I said that you would not give me to any but 
a painter ; and he answered that he would then be 
a painter himself, that he was almost one already.' 

" ' And what then ? ' 

'' ' He asked me how long I would wait for him, 
and I answered, 'Ten years.' And that is all, 
only that he is coming to ask for me an hour be- 
fore vespers.' 

" ' Ha ! ha I ha ! ' laughed del Fiore. ' Well, 
child, go to your nurse.' 

" ' But what shall you say to Antonio, father ? ' 

'' ' Oh, I shall consent. 'Twill be the easiest 
way. You will then forget him in two months.' 

'' The affair was readily settled between del 
Fiore and Solario ; for the painter regarded it as a 
joke, and thought himself vastly cunning in not 
opposing the lovers. Solario entered his studio, 
but soon left for other and better masters. 

'' Several years passed away, and Violetta had 

grown from a lovely child into a charming young 

lady. She loved Antonio better than ever ; and 

when she heard, as she often did, that he w^s be- 

15 



226 THE TWO SICILIES. 

coming famous, her eyes sparkled with pleasure. 
At last, he returned to Naples ; and oh, what a 
happy day it was for both ! Antonio had brought 
with him a beautiful picture ; and when del Fiore 
was out, he set it up in his studio, and hid himself 
behind a curtain that he might listen to his criti- 
cisms. 

''He had scarcely arranged the brocade, when, 
the painter entered the room. ' A new picture ! 
How came it here, I wonder ! What admirable 
drawing I What perfect coloring I Who can have 
done it ! ^ Exclaiming thus, del Fiore stepped back- 
ward until he trod on Antonio's toes, and heard a 
faint little titter behind the drapery. He pulled it 
quickly aside, and there stood Violetta and Anto- 
nio, hand in hand. As soon as he saw them, they 
knelt at his feet, when he said, good-naturedly, 
' Yes, yes — yes, yes — you may get married as 
soon as you please. I always meant to have a 
great painter for a son-in-law, and Antonio will 
just suit me.' " 

" It was a good thing for Antonio that del Fiore 
insisted upon a painter for his daughter. One 
might make a pretty novel out of that story, 
uncle." 

'' Very pretty, Thornie, because it would admit 
of descriptions of Chieti and Naples, and also of 
those cities which Antonio visited in search of 
masters, and the schools in which he studied. But 
perhaps you will find my next painter a still better 
subject for your pen. 



LORENZO THE ENGRAVER. 227 

^'LORENZO MONTEMAN Y CUSENS 

was a Sicilian, but he spent much of his life in 
Spain. He began in a small way, by engraving 
tin tobacco-boxes. These were so tasteful and so 
well executed as to become the fashion ; and then 
he improved upon them by bringing out the de- 
signs in relief like raised work. Still advancing, 
he commenced business as a silversmith. He em- 
ployed ten or twelve artisans, and received as 
many pupils. 

' ' He was one day returning to Salamanca from 
Zamora, whither he had gone to obtain commis- 
sions ; when, on turning a corner of the bridle 
road, he was saluted by the order, * Halt, stand ; 
your name, business, and luggage ! ' 

" ' Bless your heart,' said the timid artist ; 
' don't you know me ? Why, I'm Lorenzo y Cu- 
sens, the great silversmith of Salamanca.' 

" ' I shan't take your word for it. Down with 
you, and let me look into your saddle-bags.' 

" ' That you may do in welcome,' said Cusens. 
' You will only find a woollen vest for the evening, 
and ray tools.' 

'''Tools? Yes — I've found them; and this 
piece of silver. You're a coiner, that's what you 
are. I thought so the minute I saw you.' 

" ' Holy Mother of God ! ' exclaimed the un- 
lucky Cusens. ' 'Tis the seal of the Captain Gen- 
eral which I am to engrave ; and he calls me a 
false coiner.' 

" ' And a false coiner you are, and you shall 



228 THE TWO SICILIES, 

march straight back to Zamora and be tried/ re- 
plied the soldier. 

" Cusens could but laugh at his own appear- 
ance as he jogged along on his mule, with his 
hands and feet tied, and four or five fierce-looking 
fellows, on fiery Andalusian horses, surrounding 
him. It was no laughing matter, nevertheless, 
and it was only after many anxious days that he 
was allowed once more to set out for his home at 
Salamanca, where the work had fallen sadly be- 
hindhand, and where the pupils had taken more 
holidays than were good for him or them. 

"A still more absurd affair followed. Cusens 
had made a wax model of the Annunciation, — that 
is, of the scene when the angel Gabriel announced 
to the Virgin Mary that Jesus Christ was to be 
born. Cusens intended to copy this model in sil- 
ver, and had set it in a good light for that purpose, 
when, getting into a dispute with aii assistant, he 
accidentally overthrew and broke it. He did not 
notice the accident, or was too angry to stop at 
once and gather up the fragments, and a meddle- 
some neighbor looking in, cried, ' Oh, the sinner ! 
See him trample the blessed Madonna under his 
horrid feet ! Oh, the son of Satan, kicking the 
queen of heaven herself! ^ and, although the artist 
went daily to mass with his pupils, he was sum- 
moned before the court of the inquisition. Luck- 
ily he was not rich, so it was scarcely worth while 
to burn or even imprison him in the face of his 
bowings and confessions ; but the event completed 



DUMATJtICE'S WIFE. 229 

his disgust at the ignorant and bigoted Spaniards. 
He fled to Portugal, thinking all the while that a 
new accuser was behind him ; nor do I know 
whether he managed to live there in more peace 
than he had done in Spain/' 

" Of course, uncle, you know that I shall never 
write a novel, but if I were to, I think I should like 
a more striking hero,'' said Thornie. 

" Perhaps one might make something out of the 
story of 

"cola d'amatrice. 

*' Cola was born in 1514, at Amatrice, in the 
Farther Abruzzo. For many years life was to him 
one long festival. There were hosts of people 
who not only praised his genius, but also regarded 
him as a friend ; and this made the world appear 
warm and bright when he went abroad, and at 
home he had a beautiful, true-hearted wife, whom 
he dearly loved. 

'' He lived happily at Ascoli, where he had no 
rival either in painting or architecture, until the 
two political parties there came to an open quar- 
rel. The town was in a dreadful state. Armed 
men filled the streets, and did a great many cruel 
things under pretence of helping their party. 
Some of them envied Cola, and resolved to break 
his heart by stealing his wife. If he should resist 
them and try to protect her, they said they would 
kill him, and throw his body over the cliff near 

ty. 



230 THE TWO SICILIES, 

*' Cola was warned of their wicked designs, and 
he rushed home, threw his arms about his wife, 
and drew her out at the back door as his enemies 
entered the front one. The latter were soon upon 
their track, and ran after them as fast as they 
could, all the while threatening Cola with death if 
he should interfere with them. They had reached 
a cliff which hung over a frightful abyss, when 
Madame d'Amatrice found that there was no hope 
of escape ; and, anxious only to save her husband, 
she exclaimed, ' Farewell, dear, dear Cola,' and 
leaped into the chasm. 

''For a moment the brutal soldiers paused in 
horror, — then they sprang forward and looked 
over the precipice. Down, down, so far that they 
could see only a little heap of white garments, lay 
the darling wife, whose last thought was for the 
safety of her husband. ' Dashed in pieces,' said 
the men, carelessly ; and, without a glance at the 
painter, who had thrown himself upon the earth in 
his agony, they returned to Ascoli. 

" Cola was saved, but life was no longer sweet 
to him. He shuddered whenever he entered his 
pretty house, because there would never be for 
him a welcoming kiss. He lost all interest in 
painting and designing, because there was no lov- 
ing eye to follow the movements of his brush, and 
no loving voice to praise his success. He died 
early, as he desired to do ; and he grew very joy- 
ful at the last, for he was sure that he should soon 
meet his lost wife, and dwell with her forever in 
heaven.'' 



POLlDOnO AND mS FRIEND, 231 

*' Oh, uncle, wliat a devoted wife I '^ I ex- 
claimed. 

" Yes ; but the story is fearful/' said Maggie. 

''Too tragic, entirely, for a novel,'' said Thor- 
nie. "I shall only kill the bad people when I 
write. For example, if I were to use this narra- 
tive, I should pretend that the soldiers fell over 
the cliff, and that Cola and his wife escaped, and 
lived happily for many years after." 

" Then you will never write about 

" POLIDORO CALDARA," 

replied uncle. " He was born toward the end of 
the fifteenth century. While he was yet a boy he 
went to Rome ; and, being very poor, he made an 
honest penny by carrying mortar for the masons 
who were at work on the papal palace. He might 
have carried mortar to the end of his days, but 
that he had so much ability, and was, beside, so 
good-tempered, that the artists who ornamented 
the walls which the masons built, made a compan- 
ion of him, and talked with him about their art as 
if he were a painter like themselves. Among them 
there was a young man whose name was Maturino, 
whom he dearly loved, and who loved him in re- 
turn. Maturino taught Polidoro all he knew *, and 
then they put their earnings into a common purse, 
and lived and painted together for a long time. 

" At length Polidoro went to Messina in Sicily, 
where he founded a school. He had many pupils ; 
among others, a Sicilian, named Tonno, whom he 



232 THE TWO SICILIES. 

particularly favored, keeping him constantly with 
-him, and even permitting him to work upon some 
of his own pictures. 

" Polidoro was much admired in the island, and 
was rapidly winning both money and fame, when 
he began to long so earnestly to return to Eome, 
that every minute seemed an hour, and every hour 
a day, until he could finish all the pictures which 
he had engaged and begin the journe}'". On the 
evening before he was to set out he took from the 
bank in the city a large sum of money which he, 
had earned by his brush, and put it in a travelling- 
case, which he placed beneath his pillow. Then he 
went to bed to be fresh for the morrow. 

*' That was Polidoro 's last slumber. Tonrio had 
been planning for a long time to steal the very 
money upon which his head was lying ; but, fear- 
ful of discovery, he hired some assassins to kill 
him and lay the body at the door of another house. 
The wretched youth was obliged to give these men 
nearly all the gold which he thus obtained, and he 
was half crazy with terror until they left him. 

" The next morning, he went to one of Polidoro's 
friends, and told him with tears that his master 
went out the night before but did not return, and 
that he had been found dead in the street. The 
gentleman was dreadfully shocked. He called out 
the whole force of the police ; who, although they 
hunted and watched, discovered nothing, and Ton- 
no began to breathe more freely. But God seldom 
permits such guilt to pass unpunished even in this 



THE NEAPOLITAN MAIDEN. 233 

world, and he did not now. He put it into the mind 
of a person not connected in any way with Poli- 
doro to say that ' No one but Tonno himself could 
have committed the deed.' The whisper spread, 
one after another believed it, and Tonno was 
arrested, when he confessed the crime and was 
speedily hung." 

'' Why, this story is worse than the one before 
it, uncle," said Thornie. " In that about Cola, 
there was so much beautiful unselfishness, and 
sweet affection, and splendid heroism, that they, 
somehow, took away half the horror ; but here 
there is only mean, coarse crime and bitter punish- 
ment." 

*' Your criticism is just, Thornie," said uncle. 
*' Now see if you can find any redeeming point in 
the history of 

" ANIELLA DI ROSA. 

" Amelia was one of the loveliest of the Neapol- 
itan maidens, when the great Massimo Stanzioni 
received her into his studio. He loved her for her 
genius, industry, and modesty ; and he not only 
took especial care to teach her thoroughly, but he - 
obtained for her, when she left him, the very best 
of patronage. 

'' While still with Stanzioni, she loved Agostino 
Beltramo, and was beloved by him. He was a fel- 
low-pupil and a favorite with the master, who 
entered heartily into all his plans, and persuaded 
the parents of both families to consent to the mar- 



234 THE TWO SICILIES. 

riage. The pair lived together sixteen years, and 
their happiness was perfect, until an envious, evil- 
minded person persuaded Agostino that his wife 
loved the dear old artist who had so befriended her 
better than himself. Then he fell into a frightful 
passion, and in hard, bitter words, asked her if this 
were true. Too indignant to reply, Aniella re- 
mained proudly silent, and he struck her to the 
floor. 

" He was dreadfully frightened when he saw her 
lie so still at his feet. His absurd suspicions and 
his wicked anger were gone ; and there was noth- 
ing left in his heart but the tenderest love for her. 
He put his arms about her and lifted her gently. 
He kissed her repeatedly. He called her by every 
sweet, caressing name. He begged and implored 
her to forgive him. But it was all in vain, — she 
could neither hear nor answer. He had killed her, 
and she had gone home to God.'^ 

" Uncle Paul,'' groaned Maggie, '' your histories 
grow worse and worse.'' 

" Then you think there is no redeeming point in 
this one, I suppose." 

''I think there is one," interrupted Thornie. 
" There were the sixteen happy years, and then 
Agostino committed the deed in a moment of pas- 
sion. It wasn't planned beforehand, and thought 
about and arranged." 

'* It is frightful, at any rate," answered Mag- 
gie. " Don't give us any more dreadful histories, 
uncle." 



SALVATOR ROSA. 235 

'' Not if you are tired of them. I will, tell you 
one or two anecdotes about 

'* SALVATOR ROSA. 

" Salvator lived in the small hamlet of Arenella, 
which crowns a height a short distance from Na- 
ples. His parents were very poor, and they lived 
in a great rambling old house, just ready to tumble 
down over their heads. But the birds in the trees 
were not more merry than he. His witty sayings 
made fun for the whole hamlet. He taught him- 
self to play on all the musical instruments which 
he could lay his hands on, and he was equally busy 
in copying bits of landscape with burnt sticks. 
One day he carried — quite by mistake, of course 
— his burnt sticks to church instead of his mother's 
mass-book ; and, overcome by strong temptation, 
he commenced a fine drawing on the wall. He 
was so interested in the work, that he did not 
see the monks when they came out of the choir ; 
and they beat him so cruelly that his bones ached 
for many a long day afterward. 

*' While still young, Salvator made himself one 
of the best landscape painters of the age ; but he 
was too independent to flatter the public, and he 
remained for many years in the depths of poverty. 
He continued to labor and to improve amidst 
every discouragement, often hungry and sick, suf- 
fering himself, and seeing his family suffer, also. 
fle was brilliantly rewarded for his persevering 
industry. He grew into the public favor. Kings 



236 THE TWO SICILIES. 

and nobles were rivals for his pieces, and he could 
command almost any price for them he chose. 
This, after naming to a purchaser, he would not 
lessen ; not because he cared for the money, but 
because he thought it lowered the art to the level 
of common trades and professions. 

'* A Roman prince once stopped before one of 
his landscapes, and said, ' I am strangely tempted 
to buy this picture. What is the price of it ? ' 

" ' Two hundred scudi ' (about two hundred 
dollars), replied Salvator. 

" ' Two hundred scudi I Oh, that is a price I 
We'll talk of it another time.' 

'' The prince soon returned and again inquired 
the lowest price. 

^' ' Three hundred scudi,' was the answer. 

" ^ You are joking,' exclaimed the prince. 'I 
see I must even wait upon your better humor ; 
and so farewell. Signer Rosa.' 

'' The next day, the prince went to the studio 
for the third time. ' Well, friend, how goes the 
market to-day ? ' he asked. ' Have prices risen, 
or fallen ? ' 

" ' Risen to four hundred scudi,' replied Salvator. 
Then, giving way to his wrath, he continued, 
' The truth is, your excellency cannot now have 
this picture upon any terms ; and j^et, so little do 
I value it, that I think it worthy no better fate than 
this.' As he spoke, he seized the painting and" 
broke it in pieces under his feet." 

"How passionate he must have been to trample 
on his beautiful picture I " said Thornie. 



TEE LITTLE GIOBBmO. 23Y 

" I cannot think how he could break it. One 
cannot break canvas/^ said Maggie. 

*' It was painted on wood of close texture, well 
seasoned and prepared.'^ 

"And the price, uncle? If Salvator were so 
famous, why did he offer even a little picture for 
so small a price ? '' 

*' Money was worth a great deal more in those 
days than in ours, Maggie. I don't know how 
much more, but several times as much, I think. '^ 

" Did Salvator do anything except with his 
brush ? '' 

" Yes ; he wrote poetry which is still read, and 
composed music which is still sung ; but he is 
best known as the one great, original Neapolitan 
landscape painter. '^ 

''Uncle," said Thornie, gravely, "I doubt if 
Salvator's life were stirring enough for my novel. 
It would drag if I should even keep within sight 
of facts.'' 

*' I can imagine so," interrupted Maggie, with 
a gay laugh. " Now, dear uncle, instead of a 
plan for a romance which will never be written, 
please give us just one made-up story." 

'' Yes, since you have listened so well. I will 
call it 

''born to be a painter. 

'' Some centuries ago, there lived in the village 
of Rionero a little boy named Giordino. Even in 
babyhood he had a wonderful eye for color, and 



238 



THE TWO SICILIES. 



he would lie for hours gazing at a wretched daub 
of a Madonna, which had been given to his mother- 
by a travelling painter. But he soon outgrew this 




TILLAGE OF KIOH^ERO. 



miserable work ; and when he saw pictures which 
did not please him, he shook his little head, and 
stamped his little foot, and appeared to be in a 
perfect tempest of pain and anger. 

"There were but two really good pictures in 
the village, — a Madonna and Child, and a Descent 
from the Cross, — and both were admirable in 
drawing and coloring. They belonged to a noble 
but poor family, a branch of the Roman Sorellis. 
Of all its ancient magnificence, these pictures 
alone remained ; and the count and countess 
treasured them with the utmost care. They had 



ATTACK OF RIONERO, 239 

nothing to give the little Giordino ; but they al- 
lowed him to enter, at all hours, the room where 
these treasures were kept, and to stay there as 
long as he pleased. 

" This liberty made the little fellow very happy, 
and not a day passed in which he did not visit 
them once, at least. His mother, who was a 
widow, was too poor to buy brushes, paints, and 
canvas ; but he shaped some sticks like a crayon, 
and charred the ends, and with these he sketched 
on every stray bit of paper and fragment of mar- 
ble he could find. He even practised upon his 
shirt, and appeared one day with an animated rep- 
resentation of a bird chase by two dogs, upon the 
coarse linen. 

"I suppose that he would have become a painter 
at any rate, for wise men tell us that ' Where 
there's a will there's a way ; ' but he was helped 
on materially by an event which threatened to put 
an end to his sketches and himself together. A 
dispute having arisen between the Neapolitan gov- 
ernment and the Pope, the papal army attacked 
the village of Rionero. The inhabitants, with 
Count Sorelli at their head, and assisted by a few 
soldiers, resisted as well as they could, hoping to 
receive aid from their own army, which was at no 
great distance. 

" Giordino had refused to fly with his mother 
and sisters ; for, living or dying, he wanted to be 
near his beloved pictures. He appeared to forget 
everything but them ; and, unterrified by the 



240 THE TWO SICILIES. 

shouts and cries, the glitter of swords, and the 
balls which were pouring into the place, he found 
the leader of the assaulting party, and catching 
him by the coat, he begged him to spare the palace 
of the count. The captain, who was much too 
busy to attend to him, only heard a word here and 
there, about our dear lady and the wonderful 
cro*ss, and saw the building to which the little pe- 
titioner eagerly pointed. He imagined it to be a 
convent, and ordered his men to save it uninjured. 

" Giordino heard the command, and, hastening 
back to Count Sorelli, told him what he had done. 
The count — who had been a soldier in his youth 
— immediately saw the advantage to be derived 
from the position. He placed the villagers in the 
palace, and then pretended to fly with the soldiers. 
The papal troops rushed after him and his men 
with loud shouts, and when they had become 
wholly disordered in the pursuit, the fugitives ral- 
lied in a narrow mountain pass, where a dozen men 
could keep a hundred at bay. Unable to force 
this pass, the invaders returned to the village, 
where, to their amazement, they were hotly re- 
ceived by the villagers in the palace. While still 
engaged with these unexpected enemies. Count 
Sorelli assailed them in the rear, and kept them 
busy until a division of the Neapolitan army came 
up and put them to flight. 

^' Great was the exultation of the Rionese. The 
little Giordino was publicly thanked, and a festival 
was held in his honor. Count Sorelli, however, 



GIOliDINO ADOPTED BY THE DUKE.^ 241 

was not satisfied with this, and he sent an account 
of the whole affair to Naples, with a description of 
Giordino's talent for drawing, his intense desire to 
be a painter, and his utter poverty. The count 
fully expected that the viceroy would take a small 
sum from the treasury for the boy's support and 
education ; but that officer was much too selfish 
and greedy to do so. He wanted a!l that he could 
get for himself and his friends, and he had no mind 
to bestow a penny on a poor little mountain boy, 
however promising he might be. 

** The good count would not even have received 
an answer to his letter, but that an officer of the 
government — the Duke of Arana — happened to 
see it, became interested in the peasant child, and 
sent him money to pay his expenses to Naples. 
When the boy arrived, his smiling face and modest 
manner, joined to his unbounded delight in the pic- 
tures which met his eye on every side, opened a 
way straight to the duke's heart. He took Gior- 
dino into his family, educated him thoroughly, and, 
finally sent him to study at Rome and Venice. 

'' Giordino became an excellent painter, and, 
what was still better, , a good and generous man. 
Through his whole life, he assisted the friendless 
and destitute to the utmost of his power. During- 
his first visit to Rionero, he became convinced that 
Count Sorelli was really very poor, and he begged 
his patron so hard for an honorable appointment for 
him, that the duke, unable to obtain one in Naples, 
secured one. for him in Rome. He supported his 
16 



242 THE TWO SICILIES, 

motber in comfort, and gave his two sisters such 
handsome dowries as enabled them to marry much 
above their rank. He sought out the artist who 
had painted the wretched Madonna of his baby- 
hood, and finding him old and miserably poor, he 
not only assisted him, but obtained good situations 
for his sons. He married a charming young lady, 
a distant conaection of the duke, and lived in 
great honor at Naples. He had only one child, a 
son, who died in his eighteenth year, but who had 
already painted some beautiful pictures ; which, 
with many of his father^s, were destroyed in the 
peasant rebellion headed by Masaniello.'' 

" Thank you I Thank you, uncle I '^ said Mag- 
gie. 

" That sounds like a true story,'' said Thornie. 
" Isn't it a true story, uncle ? " 

" No, Thornie, not just as I have told it ; but it 
is true to the country and people at the time at 
which I dated it. Now go and make yourselves 
as happy as possible until the tea-bell rings." 



CHAPTER XII. 



THE AMBITIOUS MOUSE — MISS MOUSE GETS INTO FIKE COMPAXT — MISS MOUSE'S 
TRIALS — MISS MOUSE FALLS ILL — MISS MOUSE EETUENS TO HER ORIGINAL 
ESTATE — CHARLES III. — THE SHOWER OF GOLD — CHARLES AND THE INQUISI- 
TION— QUEEN AMALIA — FERDINAND — ROYAL IGNORANCE — THE ROYAL SUTLER 
— THE ROYAL KIMIC — QUEEN CAROLINE'S CRUELTY — THE YOUTHFUL MARTYRS 
I— EMANUELE AND HIS FATHER — EMANUELE'S MURDER — TOWZER AND THE 
"VVOODCHUCK. 




t;?^ 



UNT MARY told us suctt a cunning story 
last evening ! It runs in my head contin- 
ually. I must write it out before I com- 
mence on to-day's lesson. As nearly as I 
can remember, it was as follows : 



''the ambitious mouse, and the trials which she 

HAD. 

" A great many years ago, — as long ago, in- 
deed, as when people wore stiff ruffs, and Queen 
Bess reigned in England, — a young mouse said to 
her mother, ' Mamma, I am not satisfied with our 
rank in society. None of the great people ever 
visit us or invite us to their houses ; and for one, 
I would as soon not live at all as to get on in this 
humdrum manner, and associate only with common 
mice.' 

'* ' What will you do to get into this grand so- 
ciety that you speak of? ' asked the mamma mouse 
with a satirical smile. 

" ' I have thought that all over, mamma,' re- 

243 



244 



THE TWO SICILIES. 



plied the daughter. ' I shall first get a stiff ruff 
at least half a yard deep, and a brocade dress with 
a long train. Next, I shall newly furnish the 
house. I shall then buy a pair of horses and a 
carriage, with a coat of arms on the panel, and I 
shall hire a coachman and two footmen. You will 
see that I can do the thing in style if I only try.' 

" ' Oh yes,' replied the mamma mouse, * we 
shall see what we shall see, without doubt. But 
where will the coat of arms come from ? ' 

" ' From the shop where the carriage is painted, 
of course,' answered Miss Mouse, impatiently. 




MISS MOUSE. 



' That is the place where a great many people get 
their coats of arms ; so why shouldn't I as well ? ' 

"Why shouldn't you?' answered the mamma 
mouse, contemptuously. ' Why shouldn't you, 
indeed ! ' 

" So Miss Mouse bought a ruff, and a dress, 



MISS MOUSE'S TRIALS. 245 

and horses, and a carriage, and a coat of arms, and 
hired a coachman and two footmen, and set up for 
somebody. But, alas ! everything' went wrong. 
She, who had always looked prettily in her plain 
gray dresses, looked vulgar in the gay attire 
which she neither knew how to select nor wear. 
Guests of quality put lier in a flutter, and she re- 
ceived them so awkwardly that they had much ado 
to keep from laughing outright. She was still 
more embarrassed when she returned their visits, 
so that she appeared even worse. At dinner par- 
ties she was frightened nearly out of her wits, and 
she made continually the funniest of mistakes. 
She knew nothing of the topics introduced into 
conversation among fine people, and made herself 
ridiculous while trying to hide her ignorance. All 
this rendered her very wretched, yet she had not 
the courage to say that she had made a mistake, 
and to return to the modest ways of her earlier 
life. I do not know but that she would have al- 
ways sacrificed her happiness to her ambition, but 
that her vexations wore upon her so much that she 
fell seriously ill. 

^' The 'mamma mouse had a clear head of her 
own, and she thus addressed her daughter : ' My 
dear child, before we aspire to a superior station, 
we should be sure that our education, habits, 
tastes, and manners fit us to fill it with satisfac- 
tion to ourselves and our associates. Without 
thinking of this, you rushed into a pos.ition for 
which you had no previous traigiing, and in which 



246 THE TWO SICILIES. 

you appeared ridiculous. Return without repin- 
ing to your original estate, and be thankful for its 
many comforts.' 

" So saying, the old lady sallied forth, and in 
three hours' time she sold all the fine things which 
her daughter had purchased, discharged the coach- 
man and footmen, and reduced her establishment 
to its former modest size. 

" Miss Mouse soon recovered her health ; but, 
although she sometimes sighed when she saw the 
rich and fashionable whirled past her door in mag- 
nificent chariots, she was never tempted to make 
such a display as should plunge her again into 
that sea of doubts, fears, and mortifications in 
which she had so nearly sunk.'' 

The lesson to-day began with an account of 

CHARLES BOURBON. 

*' Charles III.," said uncle, " the son of Philip 
V. of Spain, commenced the line of Spanish Bour- 
bons in the Two Sicilies. He entered Naples in 
state. May 10, 1*734. His dress sparkled with 
jewels, and he rode a superb horse, while his 
treasurer scattered gold and silver coins along the 
streets." 

" He thought he could buy popularity, I im- 
agine," said Thornie. " Did he succeed, uncle ? " 

" He was much beloved by his subjects," re- 
plied uncle, " but I doubt if this money shower 
contributed essentially to it. It was increased far 
more by the decided part which he took against 



QUEEN- AMALIA. 24*7 

the inquisition. Pope Benedict XIV. did his best 
to introduce this wicked institution secretly into 
the kingdom ; and, with the help of the Archbishop 
of Naples, he had already prepared dungeons and 
imprisoned several persons whom he suspected or 
pretended to suspect of not being strict Papists. 
But the archbishop boasted too soon, and in his 
pride and triumph caused the words ' Holy Office ' 
to be cut upon a stone and placed over the door of 
his- house. The people perceived this, and, igno- 
rant and superstitious as they were, they rose in 
rebellion. The king supported them, and issued 
an order in which he not only blamed the arch- 
bishop and commancled the inscription to be 
broken, but abolished secrecy in priestly proceed- 
ings. This order was cut in marble, and was 
placed in the wall of the town-hall in the presence 
of thousands of spectators, who interrupted the 
ceremony with shouts and cries of joy.'' 

"Good!'' exclaimed Thornie. ''Hurrah for 
Charles IH. ! " 

/' Had Charles a wife, uncle ? " asked Maggie. 

"Yes; he married Amalia Walburg-a, daughter 
of Frederick Augustus, King of Poland. She was 
a lovely girl, not quite fifteen, and as modest, 
fresh-hearted, and pio«s as if she had never seen 
a court. At the moment of meeting, she was 
charmed with the pleasing countenance and fine 
figure of her betrothed ; while he was delighted 
with the sweet expression of her face, and the 
gentle elegance of her manner. This agreeable 



248 TEE TWO SICILIES. 

impression deepened upon acquaintance, and in 
the close companionship of married life, love fol- 
lowed admiration. They lived happily together, 
and their court was wholly unlike that of succeed- 
ing Bourbons." 

*'It appears to me, uncle," said I, ''that the 
home life of kings and queens is not usually 
happy." 

"No, for they are not usually permitted to 
marry as they wish. Princesses are frequently 
torn from their friends and sold into another 
country like any slave, only the bargain is con- 
ducted with more dignity and the terms used are 
not the same. Then, the parties come togetlj^r 
with different views, habits, and tastes ; and al- 
though they may keep up a respectable appear- 
ance before the world, they are excessively un- 
comfortable. There are, of course, delightful ex- 
ceptions, like the union of Queen Victoria and 
Prince Albert ; but such cases are not common." 

"I should think such good parents would have 
educated their heir to be as good as themselves," 
said Thornie. 

'' Unfortunately for the Sicilies, the death of 
Ferdinand YI., King of Spain, called Charles Bour- 
bon to the sovereignty of ihat country. Upon 
taking the Neapolitan crown, he had promised not 
to unite it with that of Spain ; and he therefote 
left it to his son Ferdinand. 

" Ferdinand was a little fellow only eight years 
old, and it was a sorrowful day for him, in more 



THE ROYAL SUTLER. 249 

respects than one, when his father and mother 
sailed away and left him" to the care of hired at- 
tendants. He was allowed to grow up without 
any education, and without a single manly quality. 
A gentleman once happened to speak of the power 
of the Turks. ^ No wonder,' said the booby, 'that 
they are powerful, since before the birth of our 
Saviour all men were Turks.' 

" Ferdinand boasted his skill in breaking and 
training horses, in winning races, in shooting birds 
upon the wing, hunting deer, and angling for fish. 
He liked wrestling and boxing, and often selected 
his antagonists from the lowest of the people, who 
were cunning enough to permit themselves to be 
conquered at the proper moment. Even after his 
marriage, he drilled a company of soldiers whom 
he called ' Liparotti,' and then had a booth set 
up in their camp, where, in the dress of a sutler, 
he sold wine and food. His courtiers, and even 
his queen, were coarse enough to take the part of 
attendants. Sometimes, when he had good luck 
in fishing, he sold his fish at a stall in the disguise 
of a fisherman, eagerly bargaining with customers 
for the highest price, and joking as freely and vul- 
garly as the regular dealers. He lounged among 
the lazzaroni until he became so skilful in mimick- 
ing their language and manner, that the dirty, ig- 
norant fellows declared that they should not have 
known him from one of themselves." 

''How unkingly and ungentlemanly he was ! '' 



250 TEE TWO SICILIES. 

exclaimed Thornie ; '' and how excessively disa- 
greeable it must have been to associate with him 
in any way. Whom did he marry, uncle ? " 

'' He married, at the age of eighteen, Maria 
Caroline, Archduchess of Austria.'' 

" What kind of a person was she, uncle ? '' 

" She was beautiful and graceful, but she was 
also arrogant, grasping, and ambitious. She was 
far more elegant and accomplished than her hus- 
band, and she had far more courage and energy ; 
but she was also more suspicious and cruel, and 
she made him more tyrannical than he would oth- 
erwise have been. When the French revolution 
broke out, she became frantic with rage, and she 
resolved to kill all persons who were not thor- 
oughly devoted to her and her husband, and who 
did not think all they did and said absolutely per- 
fect. So she took into her service an army of 
spies, who, through envy, hatred, and the love of 
gain, rapidly filled the prisons, and reddened the 
scaffold with innocent blood." 

" I can easily imagine how that would be," said 
Thornie ; '' for, if a man had a grudge against his 
neighbor, he had nothing to do but to denounce 
him as a republican, and he could be revenged 
upon the man, and be paid beside." 

" Precisely so ; and this was terrible. Neither 
men nor women felt sure of their lives or the lives 
of their friends for a single day. I can only tell 
you about one of these sufferers, whose name 
was 



EMANUELE AND HIS FATHER. 251 

"EMANUELE DI DEO. 

" He was only twenty years old, and was con- 
demned with his friends Vincenzo Vitaliano, who 
was lwent3^-one, and Yincenzo Galliano, who was 
nineteen. They belonged to excellent families, 
and their fine talents and pure lives had made 
them "the delight of their teachers. They abhorred 
crime, and shuddered at the cruelties of the French 
revolutionists ; but their hearts were full of true 
and generous sentiments, and they ardently longed 
for the time to come when education should be 
universal, when justice should»be meted out to all, 
and when everybody should be free to worship 
God according to the dictates of his own con- 
science. They had privately talked these things 
over with each other and with .some of their ac- 
quaintances ; but they had no thought of med- 
dling with the government, and had neither the 
money nor influence to accomplish anything if they 
had so desired. 

'* The sovereigns were already reaping the re- 
ward of employing the basest men in the kingdom 
to destroy the best, for their wicked hearts were 
full of terror in the belief that fifty thousand per- 
sons were ready to rise against them. The more 
of these they could kill, the better, they said ; and 
the queen sent for Giuseppe Deo, the father of 
Emanuele, and ofi'ered his son a full pardon if he 
would reveal the names of his associates. 

" The old man's heart clung to his bright, active 



252 THE TWO SICILIES. 

boy, so scholarly, so brave, and so generous. He 
had never thought to outlive Kim. He hoped to 
go home long before him, and to hear his step to 
the last, to listen to his voice, to feel the touch of 
his hand in a thousand tender services. ' How 
could he give him up I Yet ought he to tempt 
him to this sacrifice of fidelity and honor ; and if 
he should tempt him, would it not be in v^in ? ^ 

''He found Emanuele at his devotions, and at 
sight of his sweet face, so full of gentle daring and 
patient courage, his scruples gave way, and noth- 
ing remained but a passionate wish to save him. 
He threw his arms about him, and drew him close 
and closer to his heart. For a few minutes they 
sat thus, silently sufiering ; then the father sobbed 
out his message. ' Oh,' he exclaimed, * I cannot, 
cannot let you go I I am old, and I lean on you. 
Your mother, too, — she weeps day and night, and 
she is already ill. We will leave Naples. We 
will leave Italy. We will leave Europe, if you 
wish/ Then, seeing the fire of a high resolve kin- 
dling in the boy's face, he threw himself at his 
feet, and begged him to have pity upon him." 

'' I should think Emanuele must have yielded, 
then," said Maggie. 

" Did he, uncle, did he yield ? " asked Thornie, 
eagerly. 

" No ; he raised his father tenderly and covered 
his hands and face with kisses. ' Dear father,' he 
said, * the tyrant in whose name you come, not 
satisfied with having broken up our happy home. 



EMANUELE'S MURDEH. 253 

hopes to make us infamous in addition. She offers 
me a disgraceful life at the price of many honor- 
able men. Let me die. Liberty demands much 
blood, but the first shed is the purest. What is 
the existence you propose for us ? Where could 
we hide our shame ? In a calmer moment, you 
would yourself blush for me. Is it not a comfort 
that I am innocent, and that I die in a righteous 
cause ? Dear father, let us suffer now ; and in 
time history will repeat my name, and you will 
yourself boast that I died for my country.^ 

" The heroism of the young man silenced his 
father ; who, without trusting himself for a fare- 
well, buried his face in his cloak and rushed from 
the spot.'' 

*' Poor old man, how I do pity him I " said Mag- 
gie. 

" The scaffold was erected under the guns of 
the fortress, and soldiers were stationed around it, 
cannons were placed at the openings of the streets, 
a strong reinforcement of troops moved nearer the 
city, police officers, both in disguise and in uniform, 
were present in great numbers, and swarms of 
spies mingled with ' the crowd, watching for the 
slightest word which could be twisted into ap- 
proval of the prisoners and disapproval of their 
fate. The royal family, fearful of a rising to save 
their victims, went to Caserta. But the young 
ra^en, in the bloom of their early beauty, wearing 
J:he well-earned honors of successful study, with 
dear friends and pleasant homes, and golden ex- 



254 THE TWO SICILIES. 

pectations stretching far into the future, went 
firmly and cheerfully to death, believing that even 
in their fall they were doing good service ^ to 
Italy/' 

''That was noble,'' said Thornie ; ''but, oh 
dear, how hard it must have been to die without 
drawing a sword or firing a shot ! " 

"But then their hands were not stained with 
blood," said Maggie. " It must be fearful to 
know that you have killed a person." 

" Are you through ? " asked a sweet voice : and 
Bessie put her head in at the door. " Oh, yes," 
she continued. " How glad I am. Now, Thornie, 
you really must tell me about Towzer." 

Towzer was Mr. Foster's house-dog, and lived 
next door. He was usually muzzled, not so much 
because he was dangerous, as because people were 
afraid of such a fierce-looking fellow. 

" I must tell you about Towzer, must I, Bessie 
dear ? " said Thornie. " Well, so I will. Just at 
night yesterday, I went to the pine grove, and on 
my way I saw Towzer. He came to me and put 
up his nose, and then pawed at his muzzle, and 
put up his nose again, and again pawed, and then 
he looked into my face so entreatingly that I took 
the muzzle off. The minute I did it, he wagged 
his tail prodigiously, and, half running, half leap- 
ing, reached a flat stone with a hole under it. 
Then he pawed and growled, and pawed and 
growled. I, thinking to help him, pried up the 
stone with a stick, and he thrust his head into the 



TOWZEE AN-D THE WOODCHUCK. 255 

hole. Then he drew it suddenly back, and I knew 
by his actions that something had bitten hira. 
Towzer was all the more eager for that, and he 
dug away furiously ; and in a few minutes he 
came to a woodchuck. He made a dart at him, 
and bit him through the back bone. But he was 
not satisfied with killing him. He caught at him 
with his teeth, and shook him, and tossed him up, 
and then he sat down and looked at him, and 
chuckled over him, striking his tail on the ground 
with an expression of triumph. Then he snatched 
at him again, and shook him, and growled, and 
tossed him up, and growled again, and bit and bit 
him ; and, altogether, he triumphed and chuckled 
over him a good half hour, I think." 

" But the dear little woodchuck was dead, 
wasn^t he ? ^' said Bessie. " He wasnH hurting 
him all that time ? '^ 

" Oh, no, he killed him with one snap of his 
great white teeth ; but you see, he was so angry, 
because he bit his nose, that he could hardly be 
revenged enough." 

'' I'm sure the woodchuck wasn't to blame," 
said Maggie. '' It was Towzer who began the 
fuss by going to the woodchuck's hole. I'm glad 
Towz, was bitten, and I hope he will always get 
bitten when he does such things. How could you 
pull up the stone, Thornie ? " 

"Perhaps I ought not to have done it," an- 
swered Thornie ; "but now let us have a run in 
the garden. My legs want to stretch." 



CHAPTER XTII. 



Kate's curiosities — the bog — kate's chase— kate in the bog — pkince 

TRIES to pull her OUT — PKINCE AND UNCLE PAUL — BEN RUNS TO THE BOO 
— KATIE'S RESCUE — Katie's illness — the cunning trick — the CHEATING' 
PRIESTS — CRUELTY OF FERDINANB AND CAROLINE — THE ROYAL CONSPIRACY — 
THE FRIENDLY 'WARNING — THE DISCOVERY — THE "WICKED ARREST — THE 
BABY PRINCE- THE INN-KEEPER'S SON — FRENCH RULE IN ITALY — DEATH OF 
CAROLINE — DEATH OF FERDINAND. 



HAVE a little cabinet of curiosities which 
I prize very much, although I must con- 
fess that I have seen some grown-up per- 
^ sons toss their heads contemptuously when 

^"^L^ I have opened its prettily carved doors. 




This, however, did not lessen its value in 
my mind. I only thought them coarse people, too 
selfish to enjoy a thing simply because it gave 
pleasure to others, and so ill bred as not to appear 
amused by efforts for their entertainment ; so I go 
on liking "my little collection as much as ever. A 
few of the articles in the cabinet are the gift of 
friends ; but by far the larger part I have collected 
myself, and my adventures in getting them would 
fill a good-sized volume. The prettiest things in 
it are the cases of butterflies and millers. One 
has, in the middle, a great lunar moth, with a 
snow-white body and pea-green wings, set off with 
"^256 



THE BOO. 25t 

spots of shaded brown ; and round him is a circle 
of millers, with exquisite markings of pink and 
g-ray. Another case has a splendid blue butterfly 
in the middle, with buff* and brown ones looking at 
him from the four corners of the frame ; and anoth- 
er case has a purple butterfly for a centre piece, 
with an edging of orange and black ones. But 
my last butterfly chase came near putting an end 
to my collecting and myself, together, and I shud- 
der every time I think of it. 

. Not far from Fonthill there is a great bog, which 
is a very unsafe place for a person not acquainted 
with the paths ; the whole surface being one tan- 
gle of shrubs, and wild flowers, and rank water 
plants, which entirely conceal the soft, clayey por- 
tions. These clay beds are so sticky, that if one 
fairly gets in it is impossible to get out without 
help ; and, as they are not firm enough to support 
one, the unfortunate prisoner gradually sinks until 
he disappears entirely in the treacherous soil. I 
never intended to go near this bog without Ben, 
who knew every step of it : but I did go once, and 
risked not coming out again. 

It was the last week in July, and there were so 
many insects out that I took my net and went with 
Thornie and my sisters to the open field on its 
border. When we turned to go home, Maggie 
and Bessie walked on before us, but Prince kept 
close by my side. He usually went with Bessie ; 
and I stooped two or three times to caress him, be- 
cause I was pleased that he liked to stay. We 
17 



258 THE TWO SICILIES. 

were nearly out of the pasture, when a fine large 
butterfly danced along, now resting on a thistle- 
top, now touching the golden petals of a cone- 
flower, and now swinging on a clover head. He 
was oream-colored, with black markings. I had 
none like him, and I gave chase. Sometimes I 
crept slowly forward, and softly reached out my 
net open to the full length of the handle ; then I 
darted along and threw the net before me. I was 
so absorbed in the pursuit, so breathlessly anxious 
to catch the pretty rover, that I forgot all about 
the bog ; and, before I was aware what I was do- 
ing, one foot slipped suddenly into the wet clay. 
I grasped a shrub at my right, but it broke in my 
hand ; and, in trying to get at another, my other 
foot went in deeper than the first. I shrieked^ 
and Thornie ran toward me, shouting for help. I 
threw him one end of my shawl, while I held by 
the other, — for it was not long enough to tie 
round my waist, — but he was not strong enough 
to draw me an inch. Prince saw the trouble. He 
bounded forward to some firm turf, and he pulled 
and pulled, but only succeeded in tearing my 
dress by his frantic eagerness. Then he turned, 
leaped back, and ran toward home. I could not 
bear to have him go. I fancied he was leaving me 
to die. I called, '' Prince I Prince!" but he did 
not heed me ; and when I lost sight of him I felt 
very faint. I almost let go the shawl, and I 
should have dropped it altogether, but that Thor- 
nie spoke suddenly and sharply. This roused me. 



KATE'S RESCUE. 259 

I knew if I should faint nothing could save me, 
and I tried to keep my thoughts on something be- 
side myself. Thornie continued to shout, but I 
counted the leaves on a whortleberry bush near 
by, and attempted to analyze some moss close to 
my hand. I was sinking, though very slowly, 
and every effort I made only drew me deeper 
down. 

Meanwhile, Prince reached home in an incredibly 
short time, and found uncle and Ben in the yard, 
planning the farm work for the morrow. He 
seized uncle's coat, whined, barked, and howled, 
and tried to draw him along. Ben understood hira 
in a minute. " Goodness, gracious ! " he ex- 
claimed, '' Miss Kate is surely in the bog ! I saw 
her go out with, her net and all her little traps.'' 

Uncle stopped for nothing ; but Ben flew to the 
carriage house after a piece of stout rope, and 
soon overtook uncle, who had to sit down a mo- 
ment two or three times to get breath. Ben was 
a swift, strong runner ; he could clear fences al- 
most at a bound, and he knew the quickest way to 
the bog. He shouted in answer to Thornie as 
soon as he heard him, and this gave us both cour- 
age. When he reached the bog, he stopped a mo- 
ment on the edge, to see how he could best reach 
me, and then jumped. Three leaps brought him 
to me ; then he slipped the rope under my arms 
around my waist, and by sheer strength lifted me 
to the firm earth beside him. By that time uncle 
arrived, and between them they contrived to get 



260 THE TWO SICILIES. 

me into the pasture. Then I fainted away, and 
knew nothing for many minutes. 

Ben hurried home for the farm wagon, for he 
could drive no other in the fields. He took out 
the seat and put in a couple of pillows with some 
blankets, and he and uncle laid me in the bottom 
and covered me up head and all. Aunt gave me a 
warm bath and put me in her own bed, and she 
and uncle watched by me the whole night. Good 
Doctor Ross watched, too, for although I was quiet 
for a little while, I soon became delirious, and 
went over once and again the whole dreadful 
scene in the bog. I shouted. I called Prince. I 
told Thornie a hundred times that I could not hold 
on much longer. I counted the leaves of the 
whortleberry bush, and talked about the moss I 
had tried to analyze. Toward morning I became 
more quiet, and by noon I was rational again. I 
was ill for a week afterward, and poor Thornie 
was not much better than I. So the whole family 
waited upon us, and petted us, and tried to amuse 
us in many ways. Uncle said the best thing for 
me was to have a pleasant task in hand, and as 
soon as I could at all bear it he gave us a lesson 
on the Two Sicilies, in order that I might busy 
myself in writing it out. He began with an ac- 
count of 

ST. JANUARIUS, THE PATRON SAINT OP NAPLES. 

*^ After a great deal of deceit and double-deal- 
ing,'' said he, '' Ferdinand hurried out of his king- 



THE CHEATING PRIESTS, 261 

dom to attack the French ; and, before he had ex- 
changed shots with them, he ran still more swiftly 
back. He did worse. Having declared war, and 
so brought the enemy upon his subjects, while the 
latter — over whom he haA mercilessly tyrannized 
— were fighting like heroes, and before a single 
city had yielded, he concluded to run still further. 
So he gathered together his own property, and stole 
all that he could lay his hands on, and, with more 
than fifteen and a half millions of dollars inJDOoty, he 
sneaked off with his family to Sicily. Then Cham- 
pionnet, the French commander, marched into Na- 
ples. But, although he held the fortress of the 
city, he would have had a great deal of trouble 
with the populace if he had not been shrewd 
enough to win their favor by offering his devo- 
tions to St. Januarius. 

" The person called by Papists St. Januarius, 
was, when alive, a Bishop of Beneventum. He 
was beheaded in the persecution of Diocletian, the 
Roman emperor, A.D. 305. It is said that at his 
execution a Roman lady gathered a few drops of 
his blood with a sponge, and squeezed it into two 
little glass bottles. These,- the priests declare, are 
now kept in the Chapel of the Treasure. Two 
bottles are, in fact, kept- there, which contain 
spermaceti dissolved in ether, and colored with al- 
kanet root to look like blood. This substance will 
melt in the rays of the sun, or with the heat of the 
hand. Twice in the year this pretended miracle 
occurs amidst masses and other solemn ceremo- 



262 TEE TWO SICILIES. 

nies. If the sun shines, the bottles are placed in 
his beams. If it does not shine, they are carried 
about for the people to examine until heated to 
the right point, when they cry, ' Glory to the Fa- 
ther, and Son, and Holy Spirit ! ' The Festival of 
the Liquefaction is the greatest in the kingdom. 

" So entire is the belief in the power of the saint 
that the rabble often beg the Saviour to intercede 
for them with him ; and General Championnet saw 
that if 4ie could obtain a token of his good will, 
that of the populace would be sure to follow. He 
therefore requested permission to witness the mira- 
cle of the liquefaction ; but, knowing very well 
that the priests, out of hatred to him and his 
army, would not let the article melt, and would 
then pretend that the saint was angry with the 
foreigners, he insisted upon placing a guard of 
honor round the shrine, and sent also a private 
messenger to inform the priests who kept the 
treasure that if the miracle did not take place 
their own lives should pay the forfeit. 

" Thus admonished, they prepared the church, 
and made arrangements for the rite. The French 
guard moved to their place, repeating the words 
taught them in Italian, ' All honor to St. Janua- 
rius ! ' which so delighted the people, . that the 
very soldiers who had fought against them shook 
them cordially by the hand. The general offered 
a mitre sparkling all over with gold and gems, and 
the officers looked as if they believed in everything 
that was said and done. The blood melted in a 



CRUELTY OF FERDmAND AND CAROLINE. 263 

shorter time than ever before, and the vast congre- 
gation said, each to the other, ' St. Januarius has 
turned republican.' The lazzaroni turned, too, 
and M. Championnet smiled quietly over his cun- 
ning trick." 

" That was a clever trick ; and, as the French 
were Papists, I suppose it did not hurt their con- 
sciences," said Thornie. 

I ''I doubt whether they were accustomed to lis- 
ten to their consciences," returned uncle. " Most 
soldiers hold that all is fair in war, and this strata- 
gem certainly saved many lives and a great deal 
of suffering." 

'* Did the French stay long ? " asked Maggie. 

'' No. The republic, established by them in 
the continental portion of the Two Sicilies, came 
to an end in 1799, and Ferdinand and Caroline, 
upon their return to Naples, broke every one of 
the conditions which they had solemnly made with 
the people, and committed such atrocities as al- 
most break one's heart to read of. More than 
four thousand innocent persons suffered death by 
command of the tribunals established and ordered 
by the sovereigns ; while more than twenty thou- 
sand ,were condemned to imprisonment, exile, and 
the loss of property. A tailor was sentenced to 
death for having made up some state dresses for 
republican of&cers. Noble and generous women 
suffered death because they had acknowledged a 
government which would have compelled them to 
do so if they had refused, and even for having 



264 THE TWO SICILIES. 

assisted wounded friends and relatives ; and love- 
ly children were murdered because they had 
looked on at the public shows. The lazzaroni 
were let loose upon the city to rob, burn, and 
murder at pleasure. ' Every one in Naples who 
can read is a traitor,^ said Queen Caroline ; and in 
no city have so much genius, so much scholarship, 
so many graces, been sacrificed by a cowardly, 
grasping, and revengeful king. The horrors were 
only ended by a treaty with Napoleon, by which 
he stipulated that they should cease. ^' 

" Napoleon appears to have done some good in 
Italy ; don't you think so, uncle ? '^ 

" Yes ; and if his influence there had been more 
permanent, he would have accomplished a great 
deal. But, as I was about to tell you, one of 
those unhappv victims was 

^'luigia sanfelice. 

" All the time that Ferdinand and Caroline were 
kept out of Naples by the French, they continued 
to pay high prices for crimes committed against 
their former subjects. One of their treacherous 
efforts was a con-spiracy which they planned with 
a man by the name of Baker. These wicked 
people proposed that the Sicilian and English 
fleets — for the English assisted these tyrants in 
many ways — should throw shells into Naples, 
which would, of course, make all the soldiers 
hurry to the castles and port-batteries. As soon 
as they were fairly out of the way, a tumult was 



THE ROYAL CONSPIRACY. 265 

to be excited ; and all persons whom it should ap- 
pear desirable to murder were to be put to death, 
and their houses were to be set on fire. The 
houses that were to be burned were to be marked 
beforehand with a private mark ; but as royalists 
and republicans often lived together, papers were 
distributed to the royalists, which, when shown, 
would save them.'' 

"Who were the royalists, and who were the 
republicans ? " asked Maggie. 

" The royalists were people who liked a mon- 
archical form of government so well that they 
were willing to receive their tyrants back again. 
The republicans were those who liked republican 
forms, and who, although they intended no ill to 
the sovereigns, would have been glad if they could 
have remained in Sicily." 

" Thank you, uncle." 

"It so happened that a Captain Baker, a brother 
of the one who arranged the affair with Ferdinand 
and Caroline, was very much attached to a lovely 
young girl named Luigia Sanfelice ; and, although 
she did not return his affection, he could not bear 
to think of her falling into the hands of vile in- 
cendiaries and murderers. So he gave her one of 
these papers and instructed her how to use it. 
Luigia was willing to brave death herself, but she 
longed to screen an officer in the republican army, 
named Ferri, whom she dearly loved, and who she 
knew would be one of the first to fall. She there- 
fore gave the precious paper to him, and told him 
what she had herself been told about it. 



266 THE TWO SICILIES. 

" She did not imagine that she could save any- 
body but Ferri ; but he knew more of such things 
than she did, and felt sure that the inhuman 
slaughter could be prevented, and also that some, 
at least, of the conspirators could be discovered 
and punished. He carried the paper to the chief 
magistrates, who called Luigia up for examination. 

" Luigia was very unhappy at first. She blushed 
till her cheeks burned painfully, and her delicate 
throat was flooded with crimson at the thought of 
telling all those grave men that she loved the 
young republican better than herself; and she 
was afraid, also, that they might suspect the kind 
friend who gave her the paper. But Ferri soothed 
her with thoughts of the good which she could 
accomplish, and promised to keep close by her 
side, and support her whenever she should falter. 
So she gathered courage to appear, and confessed 
everything except Captain Baker's name. This 
she refused to reveal, and neither the tempting 
promises of the oJBficers nor their harsh threats 
could draw it from her. By means, however, of 
the handwriting on the paper and some other 
marks which it bore, the leaders of the conspiracy 
were discovered ; and they, with their papers, 
being seized, the whole affair was laid open. 
Great indeed was the gratitude of the republicans 
toward Luigia. Heartfelt thanks poured in upon 
her from all quarters ; and a tender, loving regard 
for her sprang up in the heart of every humane 
person. 



THE BABY PRINCE. 267 

'' Luigia knew that the king and queen were 
terribly angry with her for exposing them to the 
censure and contempt of the world as vile and 
treacherous assassins ; and when the French left 
Naples she would have gone with them, but that 
Ferdinand solemnly proclaimed a free pardon for 
all political offences whatever. Trusting to this, 
she remained among the friends whom she had 
saved, and who cherished toward her the kindest 
sentiments. But Ferdinand, who never kept his 
oaths when he felt inclined to break them, as soon 
as he returned to the city, ordered her to be im- 
prisoned ; and she was put in a loathsome cell and 
deprived #f every comfort. 

"At that time, it was a custom religiously ob- 
served at the court of Naples, when a royal child 
was born, to grant the new mother three wishes ; 
and, as God had just given a dear little babe to the 
Princess Clementina, the wife of Prince Francis, the 
heir to the throne, she resolved to ask her father- 
in-law to spare the innocent prisoner. To show 
him how much her heart was set upon this, she 
would make no other request ; but said she should 
prefer this one gift to any other three that she could 
think of. So, when the king visited the infant for 
the first time, she pinned her petition to its little 
dress ; and, after he had praised its beauty, she 
claimed the boon to which she was fairly entitled. 
The king made no reply, but looked fiercely at her 
for a minute, threw the infant on the bed, and left 
the room in a perfect tempest of rage. A few days 



268 THE TWO SICILIES. 

afterward, the unhappy Luigia was beheaded in 
the market place, and although thousands grieved 
for her, no one dared so much as to say 'God 
bless you/ 

" The darling infant, through whom the petition 
for her life had been vainly presented, died soon 
afterward ; and his mother also faded away. She 
was very charming but very sad, which was not 
wonderful, since she was married to a coarse and 
vicious man, and witnessed constantly the most 
frightful cruelties, which she had no power to pre- 
vent. '^ 

'* I don^t wonder she died,'' said Maggie, wip- 
ing away her tears. " I don't wonder she died. I 
should think she would have been glad to die. 
How terrible it must be to know that such wicked- 
ness is going on, and not to be able to stop it I " 

''What became of Ferdinand and Caroline ? '* 
asked Thornie. 

" They signed two treaties with Napoleon Bona- 
parte, and then broke every pledge contained in 
them. At last, he became so angry that he drove 
them to Sicily, and made his brother, Joseph Bona- 
parte, king of Naples. Joseph reigned nearly two 
years, and was succeeded by the gallant but rash 
soldier Joachim Murat, who had married Caroline 
Bonaparte," 

" Was not Murat poor when he was young ? " 
asked Thornie. 

"Yes. He was the son of an innkeeper, in a 
little village under the shadow of the Pyrenees ; 



FRENCH RULE IN ITALY. 269 

and, when a boy, he was a waiter in a public house 
in Paris. He was extremely handsome, his figure 
was noble, and his manner was dignified, yet kind 
and pleasing. lie was fearless and brilliant on 
the field of battle, merciful when victorious, gen- 
erous to his prisoners, frank, unselfish, and per- 
sonally beloved ; but he was ignorant of the art 
of governing. He, however, did his best for his 
new kingdom, and left it in a far better condition 
than he had found it. Joseph Bonaparte began 
reforms which Murat carried out. The civil laws, 
which had filled a hundred volumes, were made 
into one clear and well arranged code or collec- 
tion. The taxes were equalized, and so pressed 
less heavily upon the poor. The monasteries, 
which had become refuges for the idle and vicious, 
were put down. Colleges were founded in every 
province, with girls^ schools, than which nothing 
was more needed. All posts of honor and wealth 
were open to rich and poor alike, and a great im- 
pulse was given to the national activity.^' 

''But, uncle, where were Ferdinand and Caro- 
line all this time V^ . 

"In Sicily, Maggie, where they were guilty of 
such cruelties that one can scarcely bear to read 
about them.'^ 

" Did they ever get back ? " 

" Caroline never did. After the fall of Napo- 
leon, there was a Congress, or meeting of the 
great European powers, at Vienna, for the purpose 
of putting down the people and upholding their 



270 THE TWO SICILIES. 

kings. Queen Caroline thought that she should 
obtain abundant assistance there, and so she went 
at once. When she left that capital, she was a 
young and beautiful bride, and she was ^oing to 
rule in one of the most delightful of cities, over a 
kingdom capable of being made immensely rich. 
She returned to it discrowned and poor, loath- 
some in her habits, and infamous in her reputation. 
She had no doubt but that she should soon be re- 
stored to the Neapolitan throne, and she enjoj'-ed 
thinking of the miseries she would cause to all 
who had loved truth, mercy, and progress better 
than her iron will. She even made out long lists 
of the persons she would destroy, and boasted of 
the thoroughness with which she would do her 
wicked work. But God in mercy designed other- 
wise, and she was found dead in her chair, her 
mouth wide open as if to call for aid, and her hand 
vainly extended toward the bell-rope which she 
could not reach. The Emperor of Austria was her 
nephew, but he had no idea of spoiling the gay 
time which his royal guests were enjoying ; and 
he forbade even that pretence of mourning which 
is seldom- denied to sovereigns as bad as herself; 
while her husband respected her memory so little, 
that he married the Princess Partanna while her 
funeral obsequies were still performing in many 
of the Sicilian and some of the Neapolitan 
churches." 

"What a monster!" broke in Thornie. ''I 
wish her horrid old husband had died with her. 



DEATH OF FERDINAND. 271 

Did he live a groat while, uncle ? and did he get 
back the Neapolitan crown ? ^' 

'' The Congress gave him the Neapolitan crown, 
and he lived till the twenty-fourth of February, 
1825. He was in the habit of calling a servant at 
eight o'clock in the morning. But on that day, 
the hour passed without a summons. The physi- 
cians and attendants who filled the ante-room, as 
was the custom, waited in vain. Nine o'clock 
struck, then ten, and they were equally afraid to 
go in and to stay out. At length, one of them 
opened the door and found the king dead, with one 
sheet twisted about his head and under his pillow, 
and the counterpane with its glittering fringes lying 
in a heap beneath his feet. Alone and unattend- 
ed, he had gone to meet the God whom he feared 
and whose judgment he dreaded. It was not 
strange that he did ; for within thirty years one 
hundred thousand of his subjects had perished, by 
every kind of death, in the cause of Italian lib- 
erty.'' 

" I am glad he was afraid to die," said Thornie. 
'' I am, uncle, truly. Were the kings who came 
after him better than he was ? " 

"No," replied uncle. ''He was succeeded by 
Francis I., Ferdinand II., and Francis II., who 
were all ignorant, tyrannical, and cruel. Francis 
II. finally exhausted the patience of his subjects. 
An insurrection broke out in Palermo, which 
would have been followed by executions, imprison- 



2T2 THE TWO SICILIES. 

ments and banishments, but for 'the arrival of the 
popular hero, Joseph Garibaldi." 

*' Oh, delightful ! '^ cried Maggie. *' I have been 
hoping that we should get to Garibaldi at last," 

" And so we have," replied uncle; ''but I can 
tell you nothing about him to-day." 



CHAPTER XIY. 

KATE'S AKOtTMENT 'WITH THORXIE — MILTOS^'S HOUSE AT FOREST HILL — ABBOTS- 
FORD — IfEWSTEAD ABBEY — SHELLEY'S HOUSE — JOSEPH GAIIlBALDl — IJUK- 
NlSa AWAY — SENTEXCED TO DEATH — THE LUCKY DIVE — SAIL OX A DIJi'- 
KEE-TABLE — THE LITTLE MINOTTI — RIDE IN A HANDKKKCHIEF — DEATH OF 
MADAM G.U?IBALDI — GARIBALDI'S SUCCESS — VICTOR EMANUEL — THE TELE- 
GR.\M — THE LITTLE COUSINS — THE BIRTH-DAY FEAST — VISIT TO THE CHURCH 
— THE EARTHQUAKE — THE CHILDREN BURIED — RINGING THE BELL — SORROW 
OF THE PARENTS — DISCOA'EEY AND BESCUE OF THE CHILDREN — ARRIVAL OF 
MR. AND MRS. CLIFTON. (SEE TABLE OF CONTENTS.) 

OMETHING which was said at dinner to- 
day reminded Thornie that he and I did 
not settle the question concerning the 
poverty of poets, and we went to uncle's 
portfolio to look for more pictures to help 
on with our arguments. 





MILTON'S HOUSE AT FOREST HILL. 



44 5 



Tis my turn to talk," said I ; " and now, 



2H 



THE TWO SICILIES. 



ThorDie, look first at this picture of Milton's house 
at Foi-est Hill. 

*' Here you can see for yourself that the great 
poet did not always live in that melancholy cot- 
tage which you showed me the other day. 

'* Look at Shelley's house,"' added I. 




SHEIiLET S HOUSE, 



" Then look at this sketch of Abbotsford, the 
home of Scott. 

'* Scott killed himself to keep Abbotsford, for 
uncle said so,'' replied Thornie, "and Lord Byron 
was a nobleman, and inherited his money." 



JOSEPH GARIBALDI. 21 1 

" Here is another fine establishment. It is Lord 
Byron's seat, Newstead Abbey." " 

''Nephew and niece, '^ called uncle, and we 
seated ourselves to listen to an account of 

JOSEPH GARIBALDI. 

'' Joseph Garibaldi,'' said uncle, "was born at 
Nice, in 1807. His father was a gallant sailor, 
who loved every wave that danced and sparkled in 
the sunlight ; and when a plump, bright-eyed baby 
boy was put into his arms, there was no end to his 
dreams of the time when he also should have a 
ship, and run acoss to Tunis, or slip into Mar- 
seilles, or even round the Cape of Good Hope. 
But, although his imagination was pretty active, 
like that of all seamen, it did not once occur to 
him to write his name as a military and naval hero, 
beloved and famous all the world over. 

^' Joseph's mother was a warm-hearted, pious 
woman, who daily thanked the good God for the 
dear little life confided to her care, and daily asked 
him to help her so to nurture it that it might put 
forth sweet and abundant blossoms. Garibaldi 
did not know anything about this, however, until 
long afterward. He kicked, and crowed, and 
cried a little just to keep his lungs in order, and 
silently drank in the healthful atmosphere of love 
and truth around him. Pretty soon, and before any 
one quite realized the matter, he had grown into 
a noble boy. To be sure, he liked to play a great 
deal better than to study, for which ho has been 



218 THE TWO SICILIES. 

sorry ever since ; but he was active, hardy, and 
good-tempered, frank, generous, and courageous, 
incapable of a mean action,' and always ready for 
a good one. He was still a little fellow, when he 
saw a poor washerwoman fall into a deep, broad 
ditch. She was terribly frightened, and, being 
encumbered by her clothing, was in danger of 
drowning; but Joseph, instead of running to call 
for aid, leaped in and helped her up the steep 
bank. 

'^ The child was, as the saying goes, ' a chip of 
the old block/ Like his father, he loved the sea 
with its fresh winds and rapid changes, and so he 
loved freedom and longed for adventure. He grew 
very tired of his school at Genoa, and proposed to 
some of his intimates to run away and seek their 
fortune. They were quite ready to go under his 
leadership, and they secured a boat, put in some 
provisions, and boldly set sail for the Levant." 

" What is the Levant, uncle ? " 

" It is a term used for the countries washed by 
the eastern part of the Mediterranean, such as 
Turkey, Asia Minor, Syria and Egypt.'' 

^' Do you know the precise place to which Gari- 
baldi meant to go ? '' 

'^ No ; I do not. Probably he intended that 
circumstances should decide ; but, luckily, a priest 
discovered their flight, and before they reached 
Monaco a swift little vessel appeared in pursuit. 
The boys tried their best to escape, but theirs was 
a slow craft, and they did not perfectly understand 



SENTENCED TO DEATH, 219 

nautical manoeuvres ; so they were soon captured, 
and taken back to Genoa in the chains of intense 
n^ortification and disgust.'' 

'' How many hoy^ run away ! " exclaimed 
Thornie. '' 'Tis strange, when they are sure to 
be brought back by their friends or to come back 
of their own will, or to go through with all man- 
ner of trials and troubles. There were Walter 
Whitby and James Morris, they were brought 
back, and they were just ashamed to show their 
faces ; then there was Jack Norton, he came back, 
and was glad enough to do it ; and there was Pren- 
tice Allen, and as rich as his father is, he's a com- 
mon sailor ^ — his father won't help him a bit. 'Tis 
mean of his father, I think." 

''He means to punish him, I suppose," replied 
uncle. ''But we will return to Garibaldi. Al- 
though he was born in Nice, which then belonged 
to France, he was an ardent lover of Italy, and 
anxious for her liberation from the tyranny of her 
rulers. Of course, as soon as this was known, he 
was sentenced to death. He fled to Marseilles, 
whither his beautiful fortune in saving life followed 
him. He was standing on the deck of a ship of 
which he was mate, dressed in his best suit, ready 
to go to the city, when he heard a noise in the 
water, and looking down, saw a French boy just 
sinking under the stern of the vessel. He sprang 
into the water and bore him to the shore in safety, 
amidst the glad shouts of a crowd of spectators. 
They were still shaking hands with him, and prais- 



280 THE TWO SICILIES. 

ing his coolness and promptitude, when the boy^s 
family appeared to add their heartfelt gratitude, 
and the mother embraced him warmly and sljed 
happy tears on his glowing cheeks. 

*' Since that time, Garibaldi has lived in various 
parts of the world, sometimes peacefully laboring 
for his support, but often fighting desperately, on 
land and sea, in the cause of freedom. He has 
met with wonderful adventures, because he has 
never hesitated to risk life and limb in the pursuit 
of worthy objects. Once, when his vessel lay in 
the river Plata, in South America, he was entirely 
out of provisions. There was a house four miles 
inland, but he had no small boat to land with ; the 
wind was blowing strongly off the shore, and the 
breakers sang out a warning from under their 
white caps. But Garibaldi, nothing daunted, 
turned a dining-table upside down, and embarked 
on it with a sailor named Maurizio. After great 
trouble they succeeded in reaching the bank, and 
the next day they attempted to return on the same 
curious craft, with the quarters of a fat bullock 
fastened to the legs of the table. The danger of 
the first attempt was nothing to that of the sec- 
ond. The table sank below the water's edge, and 
the breakers rocked it so much that it was almost 
impossible to keep a footing. Garibaldi and his 
man were, however, strong, skilful, and cool ; 
and, after vast labor, they reached the ship with 
their provisions, a most welcome freight to the 
half-starved crew. 



FLIGHT OF MADAM GARIBALDI, 281 

" When fighting for the Republic of Uruguay, 
which was trying to maintain its independence 
against Rosas, Dictator of Buenos Ayres, Garibal- 
di married a Brazilian lady, named Annita. She 
was a loving and heroic woman, and till her death 
she shared all his toils and dangers. She accom- 
panied him in his marches, was present at his bat- 
tles, cheerfully suffered from cold and heat, fatigue 
and hunger, and braved death in every form in or- 
der to sustain him by her gentle cares and tender 
sympathy. Her first dear little baby was born at 
San Simon, which had been almost destroyed by 
the war. The republican army was then in great 
misery, and she had no comforts for herself and 
her son. A family which still remained at San 
Simon received them into their house, and her hus- 
band set off across the country to get some clothes 
for them. That part of the country had been 
flooded with rains, and day after day he dragged 
wearily through the deep water. When at last 
he returned to San Simon, there was no trace of 
his sailors, of his wife, or the hospitable people 
who had shared their little all with her. He was 
wild with agony ; but at length he found them in 
the woods, whither they had fled from the enemy, 
Madam Garibaldi having been compelled to mount 
her iiorse in a raging storm, with her baby boy, 
then only twelve days old. 

'' This was the first of a series of memorable 
rides taken by the little Menotti. During a terri- 
ble retreat among mountain ridges, in almost con- 



282 THE TWO SICILIES. 

stant rain, when he was three months old, he was 
carried over the most difficult portions of the way, 
and through the swollen rivers, in a handkerchief 
hung round his father's neck, whose breath alone 
kept him from freezing. 

" The heroic Annita died, at last, in an empty- 
peasant huf in the depths of an Italian forest, worn 
out with hardships and exposure, and with noth- 
ing to lessen the suffering of her last hours, her 
husband being engaged in striving to free northern 
Italy from the tyranny of Austria. With his own 
hands, Garibaldi laid her to rest beneath the 
friendly shadows, and the spot where she sleeps 
is known to him alone ; but she needs no marble 
monument, for her rare courage, fortitude, and de- 
votion, have built one for her in countless loving 
hearts.'' 

''I am sorry that Madam Garibaldi did not live 
long enough to see what her husband has accom- 
plished since then. How happy she would have 
been ! '^ said Thornie. 

" His work has been truly glorious. At the last 
grand uprising in Italy, the national party placed 
him at its head. His brilliant yet modest bravery, 
his justice, and his affectionate personal regard for 
his soldiers, made him the idol of the arm3^ Noth- 
ing appeared impossible to it with Garibaldi iT)r its 
chiefs 

" But, uncle," said Thornie, ^' he must have had 
real genius to make any headway at all with as 
small an army as Mr. Martin spoke of last even- 
ing." 



GARIBALDPS SUCCESS. 283 

" He had genius, Thornie. He had the ability 
to. inspire his men with confidence and enthusiasm, 
and to make them enter with easy firmness upon 
apparently desperate enterprises. His vigilance 
was unsleeping, his marches were rapid and silent, 
he possessed great skill in harassing the enemy at 
unexpected points and moments, apid he possessed 
wonderful fertility in stratagems. 

*^ Sicily was held by a well-trained and well- 
equipped army, assisted by a fleet which was pow- 
erful by sea ; Garibaldi raised about fifteen hundred 
imperfectly armed men, with two light guns, and 
embarked in a couple of trading steamers, which a 
few cannon-balls would have sunk. He landed in 
the harbor of Marsala, passed from victory to vic- 
tory, and crossed to Naples, which quickly and 
gladly acknowledged him as its master. 

^'Hurrah ! ^' shouted Thornie so loudly that 
Bessie looked in to see what was going on. 
" Hurrah ! Garibaldi forever ! Oh, how I wish I 
could see him ! But, uncle, after all the Italians 
had sufiered from kings, I wonder they did not 
want a republic.'' 

*' A small party did desire a republican form of 
government, but the great mass of the people 
wished for a constitutional monarchy like that of 
England. The great question was, ' Who shall 
be king ? ' It was but natural to think of Victor 
Emanuel, King of Sardinia, who had been beauti- 
fully named the ^ King of his word.' He already 
possessed a portion of Italy. He was brave, frank, 



284 TEE TWO SICILIES. 

and honest, and was trusted and beloved by his 
subjects. He was, doubtless, the best man for the 
place ; and both Sicily and Naples joined with 
Central Italy in offering him the crown." 

" Then the kingdom of the Two Sicilies has no 
longer an independent existence,'^ I said. 

" No," replied uncle ; "it forms a part of the 
new kingdom of Italy under Victor Emanuel II. 
It is far better governed than ever before, and is 
reaping great benefits from the change of rulers. 
Entire religious liberty has been proclaimed at 
Naples. The priesthood has been deprived of 
civil power, and can no longer tyrannize over the 
inhabitants at pleasure. The working men are 
becoming more thrifty and intelligent, and a glori- 
ous future appears to lie before Italy." 

'^ And what reward has Garibaldi for his splen- 
did services in driving out that wicked Francis ? " 
asked Thornie. 

'' Nothing, because he would accept nothing. 
He resigned his immense power into the hands of 
the king, and retired quietly to his island of Oap- 
rera." 

" That was noble I That was like Washing- 
ton ! " exclaimed Maggie. 

Just then the door-bell rang, and a telegram was 
handed, in. It was from father, and stated that he 
and mother would reach Fonthill by the next train. 
This occasioned a grand scampering, for Maggie, 
Bessie and I wished to put on our prettiest dresses 
in honor of the guests ; and Thornie, who did not 



THE LITTLE COUSINS. 285 

care much about his looks, wanted to place the 
last things in a work-box which he had made for 
mother. But before it was time for the train to 
arrive, we were all in the library, seated close to 
the windows. " How long the minutes are,'' 
said Mag-gie. *' Who will tell a story ? '' 

" I will,'' replied I ; " for I have just written 
one for uncle about the great earthquake which 
did so much mischief in the Sicilies in 1783. I 
called it 

"the buried children. 

" In the little village of Lavina, in Southern 
Italy, there lived in the year 1783 two brothers, 
named Antonio and Annibale Massini. They were 
both workers in iron, and their houses were sep- 
arated only by a little orchard where tall orange- 
trees grew. 

"Annibale had a son named Giovanni, and An- 
tonio had a daughter named Giulietta, who made 
perpetual light and bloom in their poor cottages ; 
and who were, perhaps, loved all the better be- 
cause in the whole world their parents had notli- 
ing else to love. The children played together 
without quarreling, and they were so unwilling to 
be separated, that Giovanni spent one day with 
Giulietta, or Etta, as she was usually called, and 
Etta spent the next with Giovanni. 

" Giovanni was a merry boy, and there was al- 
ways a laugh in his sparkling black eyes and on 
his red lips, which parted over beautiful pearly 



286 THE TWO SICILIES. ^ 

teeth. He was full of mischief, too, not really 
naughty mischief, but funny pranks which tempted 
his mother to scold and smile at the same time. 
But Etta was quiet and gentle, and she opened 
her blue eyes wide with amazement and shook 
with tender little fears every time her cousin was 
busy at his tricks. Her chief pleasure was in 
going to the pretty church and seeing the pictures, 
particularly that of the Virgin Mary and the Child 
Jesus, which hung above the altar. It was paint- 
ed by a great artist, and both the faces were so 
full of strong and tender love that they warmed 
and brightened the whole church, and made one 
feel hopeful just to look at them. Antonio did not 
like to have Etta stay so much in the church, for ' 
he thought it would make her moping and sad ; 
but Grasina, her mother, said, ' Let her go if she 
chooses. Perhaps our dear Lady has herself put 
the wish in her heart.' 

'' Etta's birth-day fell on the fifth of February; 
and, of course, Giovanni was early at the house. 
It was to be a real festa, and the children were to 
have a little banquet by themselves. There were 
on the table macaroni with cheese, little pyra- 
mids of sugar cakes, a dish of tarts, and some fruit 
that made their mouths water. Some flowers 
were placed in the centre of the table, and two 
pretty garlands were ready for the two eager 
wearers. The preparations were nearly made, and 
Grasina had -stepped out to buy some confection- 
ery, when Etta said, ' Jovie, dear, we haven't been 



THE CniLDIiEy BUR JED. 287 

to the church to-day. Let us take one look at the 
dear Christ-child while my mother is getting the 
sugared almonds and the beautiful colored plums.' 

"Giovanni usually disliked these visits. The 
church was too solemn for him^ and in spite of the 
lovely colors which came in a gem-like shower 
from the painted windows, his restless feet only 
danced in to dance speedily out again. But now 
he thought it would make his aunt's absence ap- 
pear shorter than it would otherwise do, and he" 
took Etta's hand, and they went skipping along 
together. 

*'The church was not far distant, and the door 
stood open in a friendly way, as if it expected 
them. ' We will just go once to the altar and then 
run home again,' said Etta ; and the children 
walked softly and reverently forward. A clear, 
rosy light streamed across the picture, and the 
mother looked tenderly upon the happy, upturned 
faces, while the Child almost appeared to put out' 
his hand as if to take them up to himself. Even 
Giovanni noticed the effect produced by the warm 
light, and he whispered, 'Sometime, Etta, we will 
go home to the good Mother and the dear Christ- 
child.' 

" Scarcely were the words spoken, when the 
foundations of the church gave way, and, with a 
deafening crash, the whole fabric fell. The chil- 
dren were not crushed, for the great ribs of the 
roof, made of solid chestnut timbers, arched them 
as they sank, and kept a clear place just about 
them, so that they could move and breathe. Gi- 



288 THE TWO SICILIES. 

ovanni was terribly frightened, but as Etta fainted 
quite away he forgot himself in the fear that she 
might be dead. He embraced her, and kissed her, 
and called her all the sweet names he could think 
of, not neglecting to ask the Madonna and the 
Christ-child to bring his darling cousin back to life. 
Presently she opened her eyes, but she shut them 
again when she saw by the dim light the fallen 
stones and broken beams which enclosed them like 
a prison. At last she came quite to herself, and 
Giovanni said, ' Oh, Etta, if we had not come, — 
if we had only been patient and stayed at home 
while aunt went for the almonds and the beautiful 
plums, we should have been safe, should we 
not ? ' 

" ' 1 do not know. Maybe we should ; but oh, 
Giovanni, I am afraid our parents are dead ! 'Tis 
an earthquake ! I am sure it is ! Grandmother 
Panella has told me about them. Oh, Giovanni, 
we shall never get out alive ! ' 

'^With this, the two children cried till they 
were wholly worn out. Now and then they would 
shout both together; but their soft voices could 
not be heard from beneath that frightful pile of 
wood and stone. By and by the light faded and 
the little ones fell asleep ; but at midnight there 
was another shock, and they awoke to new terror. 
A second time they went to sleep, and when they 
again awoke they found that the space about them 
had been considerably enlarged, and the picture 
had fallen so near them that they could look at the 
sweet faces, which was a real comfort in their 



RINGING THE BELL. 289 

dreadful situation. Sometimes weeping, some- 
times shouting, sometimes trying to console each 
other, and sometimes praying to the dear Madonna 
and the still dearer Christ-child, this day, also, 
went slowly by ; and, benumbed with cold and 
nearly exhausted, they slept through another 
night. Toward morning a third shock occurred, 
and the poor little prisoners, when they looked 
about them, saw-^the edge of the bell lying over 
the beam above their heads. * Oh, Giovanni ! ' 
said Etta, ' it is certain our parents are dead, or 
they would have tried to 'pull up these timbers and 
lift us out. We must die and go to the dear 
Mother and the beautiful Child, so let us ring the 
passing bell, for there will be nobody to ring it for 
us.' 

*' So the children tugged away at a marble rail 
of the chancel, till they pulled it out from the pile 
of rubbish, and Giovanni climbed up and struck 
the bell with all his might until he was so tired 
that he could strike no more. Then he crept back 
again, and he and Etta lay down close together 
in the warmest spot they could find. 

" While the children were thus buried below, all 
was terror and sorrow above and around them. It 
was, indeed, an earthquake, as Etta had supposed, 
and it had destroyed a hundred and nine cities and 
villages, and caused the death of thirty-two thou- 
sand human beings. The larger part of the village 
of Lavina, including the houses of the two Massi- 
nis, was swallowed up, and a deep black pool filled 
19 



290 THE TWO SICILIES. 

the spot which had just before been covered with 
cottages and gardens ; but it so happened that 
both families were absent, the two men being at 
work in their shop, and the two women having 
gone to purchase the confectionery for the birth- 
day feast. But they were ,in despair at the loss of 
their darlings ; and, although a tempest was rag- 
ing, they kept hovering about the pool, weeping, 
and bewailing their dread^ful loss. Th^ were 
looking down into its dark depths, when the sound 
of the bell came faintly to them from the farther 
edge. * There is somebody in the church and 
alive,' said Grasina. ' Can it be Etta? Oh, hus- 
band, do you think it possible ? She went so 
often to the church, and she and Giovanni might 
have gone while I was away buying the plums.' 

" ' They would not think to ring the bell,' said 
Antonio. 

" ' Our Lady might have put the thought into 
their minds. Oh, husband I let us go I let us 
try!' 

** Nearly all the villagers had been killed, and 
the few that remained were either seeking their 
own friends, or were so benumbed with the tem- 
pest, and so faint from want of food, that they 
could do little or no heavy work. But the Massi- 
nis did not despair, and began hunting in every 
direction for a place to begin their labors. They 
searched for more than an hour, when Antonio 
found a loose plank, and, drawing it out, he began 
to shout, ' Etta ! Giovanni I ' 

" Oh, joy I Far down below him he could hear 



RESCUE OF THE CniLDBEN. 291 

childish voices cry, ' Father I mother ! ' lie lis- 
tened again, — they were indeed the voices of the 
dear children. And now, both the men and women 
hewed, and hammered, and dug ; and after three 
hours'' close, hard labor, the little ones were drawn 
out of their dreadful resting-place. 

"Oh,how the parents kissed them, and embraced 
them, and shed over them, glad, grateful tears ; 
and how they thanked the Madonna — for they 
were Papists — for keeping their darlings safe 
amidst the awful destruction. 

" The two children never forgot the horrors of 
this burial, and when they grew up, Giovanni took 
priest's orders, while Etta became a nun in one of 
the convents of Our Lady of Mercy. '^ 

''Oh, what a pretty story 1 '' said Thornie ; "but 
I wish it was longer, 'tis so vexatious to keep 
looking, and looking, and being disappointed all 
the while. Somebody else tell a story. Who 
will?'' 

"You, of course," replied I ; " 'tis your turn." 

"I oan't," answered Thornie. " I can't com- 
pose my mind ; but I will tell you what I will 
do. I will draw a picture for the end of your 
book. I will call it. Travelling by Rail, and I will 
make a railway with the very train which father 
and mother are in, heading directly for Fonthill." 

" Don't let it tear the house down," said Mag- 
gie. 

" I should like the picture very much," returned 
I; "but then where will our story come from? 



292 THE TWO SICILIES. 

Oh, there is uncle, perhaps he will tell one ! " and 
with the words we all crowded round him and be- 
gan to beg. 

" Who ever saw children so ravenous for sto- 
ries ! '^ he exclaimed, with pretended despair. 
" Why, you are as bad as the old Athenians, who, 
as the evangelist tells us, ' spent their time in 
nothing else but either to tell or to hear some new 
thing.' '^ 

''Half as bad, half as bad, uncle,'' replied Thor- 
nie, with a laugh; ''for we want to hear but not 
to tell." 

" If I must, I suppose I must," said uncle, with 
mock resignation. *' What will my small tyrants 
be pleased to have ? " 

" Oh, a scrap of anything, uncle ; we won't be 
particular this time," said Thornie, "for Kate and 
Maggie will be — " 

'• Don't listen to him, uncle," interrupted Mag- 
gie. " Kate and I will pay the very best atten- 
tion if you will be good enough to help us through 
these weary minutes." 

"I will try," replied uncle. "I will tell you 
about a little adventure which I had in Italy, and 
will name my story 

"the gray parrot and the lost path. 

*' While on my way from Rome to Naples, I 
stopped at several points on the Bay of Gaeta, 
which, I think I have told you, is wonderfully 
beautiful. On a bold headland which runs far into 



LOST- IN THE FOr.EST. 293 

the sparkling waters, and forms its northern ex- 
tremity, stands the city of Gaeta, shaded by 
orange, lemon, and citron trees. It has such a 
bright, sunny look that it gladdens one's eyes to 
see it ; and beside, it is extremely interesting to 
the traveller because it has been connected with sp 
many distinguished people, and so many mem- 
orable events. Then, the eastern shore of the Bay 
is covered with the ruins of summer residences 
once belonging to famous Eomans, emperors, gen- 
erals, orators, and poets. So I enjoyed my stay 
in that neighborhood, and my rambles in different 
directions. 

''One day I found a deep gorge, as lovely as 
possible with its hangings of brilliant blossoms, 
purple gilliflowers, and golden jessamines, and 
scarlet geraniums, all woven and matted together 
by long, trailing branches of ivy. I took out 
my knife and cut a great bunch of these flow- 
ers as I went on, and then I arranged and re- 
arranged them, shaded them this way and that, 
and now and then threw away a specimen to put a 
finer in its place. I was so busy that I did not 
mind where I was going until I was fairly within a 
grove of gigantic olive trees. Never had I seen 
such monstrous ones, and the huge trunks were 
twisted and knotted, reminding me of -the writh- 
ings of horrible serpents. The soil underneath 
was so damp that it was .covered with green 
mould, out of which little tufts of fern grew at 
intervals, and everywhere around lay boughs and 



294 THE TWO SICILIES, 

twigs, broken and scattered by recent tempests. 
I turned to go back, but missed the direction, and 
plunged deeper and deeper into the forest. I had 
nothing to guide me, for the sun, which was shin- 
ing brightly an hour before, was now overcast, 
and it was evident that one of the sudden and vi- 
olent storms of the south was 'at hand. Darker 
and darker grew the sky, and the thunder began 
to growl in the distance. Still I pressed forward, 
thinking that there was a cleared spot before me ; 
and so there was, — but it was only a vast black 
marsh. 

*' While I had been hurrying on I had thought 
of all the robber stories I had ever read ; and the 
possibility of falling into the power of the brigands, 
who were said to be numerous in that neighbor- 
hood, had chilled me all over ; but this was worse 
* than robbers. I could ransom myself from them ; 
but this frightful bog, stretching upon three sides 
of me, — no money could help me out of that. To 
add to my terror, the ground on which I stood 
trembled with my weight ; for, in my haste, I had 
not observed how wet and treacherous it was be- 
coming. I imagined that I was already sinking. 
I could hardly breathe. I felt half suffocated.'' 

" Oh, uncle, what did you do ? '' exclaimed Mag- 
gie, choking down a sob. 

''I went to God with my trouble ; and when I 
Had finished my supplication I was perfectly calm. 
•I trusted my Father. I felt sure that He would 
take me by the hand and lead me into the right 
path. 



ESCAPE FROM THE MARSS. 295 

" I waited patiently a few minutes, when I heard 
a voice say, in Italian, * How do you do, Signor ? 
Fine day. Think we shall have rain. Getting 
late. Must be going'.' 

" Just then the clouds parted, and I saw a gray 
parrot sitting in a tree behind me. ^ It is a pet 
bird,' I said to myself. ^ It will go home I dare 
say, and I will follow it.' 

*' The parrot flitted from bough to bough, often 
stopping and calling out, ' Give me some nuts. 
Going to rain. Must be going.' I followed care- 
fully, hardly daring to look down lest I should lose 
sight of my guide altogether. Several times I 
thought I had missed him, but soon I heard him 
saying, ' Going to rain. Give me some nuts. 
Such a cold ; oh, oh ! ' and in about half an hour, 
which appeared to me a dozen whole ones in the 
passing, we reached a charming villa, with broad 
terraces shaded by ilex-trees and groups of stone 
pines. A beautiful girl of fifteen, perhaps, came 
running out, and seeing me and the bird at the 
same moment, she supposed that I had taken back 
the truant. ' 

" ' Oh, how I thank you ! ' she said. ' Ciano has 
been off in this way before, but it grew dark so 
suddenly that I was afraid he would be bewildered 
and get lost. Come in, Signer, come in. The 
rain is already beginning to fall.' 

'' I was glad enough to accept the invitation, 
for, before we could cross the terrace, the tempest 



296 THE TWO SICILIES. 

was fairly upon us. The wind rose, and blew with 
fearful violence, the thunder pealed in one contin- 
uous roll, and the lightning was almost blinding. 

** My young hostess told me that her name was 
Paulina, and that her father and mother were in 
Naples. ' I am sorry that they are not here to 
welcome you,' she said ; but she was so sociable 
that I was happy to have her all to myself. She 
ordered some fruit, and while I was eating she 
told me about her parrot. 

" ' He is a splendid fellow,' said she. ' I carried 
him yesterday to the picture gallery and showed 
him some painted cherries, when he flew at them, 
and would have injured the canvas if I had- not in- 
terfered. I could hardly get him away, he was so 
eager for them,' 

" ' They were well done,' said I ; ' as well, per- 
haps, as the grapes of the old Greek painter 
Zeuxis, which, when placed in the open air, de- 
ceived the birds so that they pecked at them.' 

" Paulina laughed lightly at this, and replied, 
' You, who are grown up, think how excellent the 
painting must be ; bu{ I, who am a child, think 
only how bright Ciano is.' 

'' ' That is but natural,' I answered. ' Cannot 
you tell me more about Ciano ? ' 

" 'Oh, yes indeed, ever so much more. Why, 
he has had a winter in Rome, one in Naples, and 
one in Gaeta ; and "he surprised and delighted 
everybody. He will sing the air of a little comic 



FRANCESCO'S TRICK. 297 

song called " The Merchant and the King," beat- 
ing time as he sings ; and if he makes a mistake 
he begins the bar again, still beating the time as 
well as I could do. He often asks for sugar, and 
if I refuse it he puts his claw to his mouth and 
coughs, saying every minute or two, " Such a 
cold 1 oh, oh, such a cough I I shall die ! I shall 
die ! '^ Then I give him a lump, and he takes it 
and says, " Better now ; cough gone ; " and laughs 
till he shakes all over.' 

" ' Ofano affords you a great deal of amusement/ 
I said. 

*' ' A. very great deal,' replied Paulina ; ' but oh, 
didn't he get us into trouble once, and all through 
our scapegrace of a waiter, Francesco. The Duke 
of Yitelli used to come here very often. He said 
he liked to hear my mother sing to her guitar, 
which she does finely. - Of course she could not 
refuse, but 1 do not think she did it quite willing- 
ly. At any rate, the duke was immensely disagree- 
able, so pompous in his manner, and so mean, too. 
He ordered the servants about as if they were his 
own, and he never gave them so much as a grano.* 
Francesco hated him, and before we knew any- 
thing about it he had taught Oiano a shocking les- 
son. At a sign from him the parrot would call 
out, in a shrill tone, 

*' The Duke of Vitelli, he has a bald head, 
The Duke of Vitelli, he has a big nose, 

♦Grano, a copper coin worth less than a cent of American money. 



298 THE TWO SICILIES. 

The Duke of Vitelli, he makes a grand spread, 
But he's known for a miser wherever he goes. 
Ha, ha! the Duke of Vitelli! 
Ho, ho I the Duke of Vitelli ! 
His sword it is idle, and idle his purse ; 
'Tis a pity that he's not himself out at nurse." 

'' ' Now the duke really had a bald head, and a 
great red nose, and he was said to be as cowardly 
as he was miserly ; but we would not have had 
Ciano taught this impudence for the world. How- 
ever, after the mischief was done, there was no 
help for it, and all that father and mother could do 
was to give strict orders that he should be sent to 
the gardener's whenever the duke should visit us. ' 
This was done once or twice, and then everybody 
but Francesco forgot all about the matter. 

'' ' One day the duke drove up in grand style, 
and, of course, as soon as he entered, father or- 
dered wine. Francesco brought it, although it was 
not his place to do so, and when he came into the 
drawing-room Ciano was on his shoulder. Unseen 
by any one, he gave the bird a sign, who immedi- 
ately began to shout, 

" The Duke of Vitelli, he has a bald head, 
The Duke — " 

" ' I sprang up and tried to get him away, but 
the duke had caught the sound of his own name 
and insisted upon hearing the whole, while mother 



MR. AND MRS. CLIFTON'S RETURN. 299^ 

explained and apologized, and father discharged 
Francesco on the spot. 

" * The duke would riot listen to explanations. 
He grew redder and redder till his nose looked as 
if it would fairly blaze, and then he grew pale till 
his very lips were white. " Count of Gaeta,'' said 
he, " if you were my equal I would challenge 
you." • 

" ' This was too much for father, who drew him- 
self haughtily up and replied, ''Pardon me, but 
the advantage is entirely on my side. My title 
has descended from Kobert Guiscard, and dates 
from 1057 ; while yours, if I am rightly informed, 
was obtained by purchase, from the tyrant Ferdi- 
nand, no longer ago- than the year 181 7. '^ 

'''Thereupon the duke stormed furiously, -^nd 
he kept.it up until he was seated in his carriage. 
After he had gone father and mother looked at each 
other in silence, and then both burst into a laugh. 

" ' I was too much frightened for that, an^ I 
cried out, ' Oh, how can you do so ? I am sure 
that the duke will come back with his people and 
murder us all.^ 

" ' ' Make yourself easy, daughter,^ replied fa- 
ther. ' We shall never hear anything more from 
the duke.' 

" ' Father was right, for we never have.' '' 

" That was a pickle,'' said Thornie. 

" What a droll fellow Francesco must have 
been!" said Maggie. "But there is a carriage 
just coming up the drive — and — yes, father is 



300 



THE TWO SICILIES. 



waving" his hat, and mother her handkerchief I " 
— and, without waiting for hat or bonnet, we 
rushed to the veranda, and in a minute were em- 
bracing and kissing all round. 




TBAVELUIfG BY BAIL, 



THE END. 



|(tto anil Iflfitlar Strb for ^ctp anij 6irls. 



THE AIMWELL STORIES; 

A SERIES OF VOLTTMES, ILLUSTRATIVE OF TOUTHPUL CHARACTER, 
AND COMBINING INSTRUCTION WITH AMUSEMENT. 

BY WALTER AIMWELL, 

Author of " The Boy's Own Guide," " Boy's Book of Morals and Manners," &c. 
WITH NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS. 



The volumes confc»n about 300 pages, 16mo, each, bound in cloth, with gilt backs. 
Price 63 cents. 

agi~Each volurae is complete and independent of itself, but the series will be con- 
nected together by a partial identity of characters, localities, &c. 

The first fix« volumes of this series are now ready. They are entitled: 

OSm ; or, the Boy who had Ms own Way. \ WHISTLER ; or, the Manly Boy. 



CLIXTOJi; or, Boy-Life in the Country. 
ELLA; or, Turning over a IVew lea£ 



MARCUS; or, the Boy-Tamer. 
JESSIE ; or, Trying to be Somebody. 



NOTICES OP THE PRESS. 

In the department of juvenile literature, the ' Aimwell Stories ' have fairly come 
to rival the ' RoUa Books ' in the aifections of the young people. The author when 
he conceived the plan of the series, struck a vein which he has since been work- 
ing with rich and constantly increasing success.— [Boston Transcript. 

One of the best series for the young ever written. Every family of children 
Oxight to have them. — [Chicago Congi-egational Herald. 

They are written with great skill for the tastes and necessities of children, and 
they are written conscientiously, with a moral and Christian effort unobtrusively 
operative upon every page. — [Congregationalist. 

A better series of books for children were never written. The author has studied 
deeply and accurately the feelings, hopes, and thoughts of youth. — [Boston Mail. 

The author of the ' Aimwell Stories ' has a happy knack at combining amuse- 
ment and instruction. Under the guise of a story, he not only teaches a moral lea- • 
BOn, which is or ought to be a leading object of every tale for children, but he gives 
his readers instruction in philosophy, geography, and various other sciences. So 
happily are these introduced, however, that the youthful reader must learn in spite 
of himself.— [Boston Journal. 

It is the best series of juvenile books with which we are acquainted.— [North- 
ampton Gazette. 

We have spoken repeatedly, and with unqualified commendation, of this series of 

juvenile volumes. It would be difficult to exaggerate their merits as a source of 

amucement and instruction to children. — [American Patriot. 

(a a) 



VALUABLE WOUIvS FOR THE YOUNG. 



YOUNG AMERICANS ABROAD ; or, Vacation in Europe : 
the Results of a Tour through Great Britain, France, Holland, Belgium, 
Germany, and Switzerland. By JOHN OvERTON Choules, D. D., and 
his Pupils. With Elegant Illustrations. 16mo, cloth, 

A highly entertaining work, embraCiCg more real information, sucli as every one 
wishes to know about Europe, than any other book of travels ever published. 

Three intelligent lads, who knew how to use their eyes, accompanied their tut »f 
•r a European tour ; and, from a carefully-kept journal, they wrote out, in a series J 
letters to a favorite companion in study, at home, their impressions ot the most |o 
markable places enroute. The pencillings are genuine and unaffected, and iniSk 
tespec-ts forin an interesting and instructive recordof travel. — Sartain's llUgazine, 

One of the most instructive and delightful books of the age.— iSouthem Lit. Gaz, 

Boys, here is i. book that will suit you exactly. It is a series of letters from certain 
boys travelling in Europe to their classmates ita this country. It will improve your 
knowledge and amuse you during long winter DiChtSi — Methodist ProU 

It is worth much more than many a larjrer and more pretentiouB volume, fot giving 
a daguerreotype of things abroad.— Cong'^gationdlkt. 

A beautiful book for young people, unlikp any thiut.' w? have eve,» seen. — Ch. Ob 

Most interesting book that can be put irto the handsof t,t« young. — OUve Branrh. 

The best book of foreign travel for youth to be found kn tLe wholP. range of Amet" 
can literature. — Buffalo Morning Express. 

THE ISLAND HOME; or, the Young Castaways. By 
Christopher Roma'^nt, Esq. With Elegant I'lus; rations. 

The best and prettiest book for boys that we have lately seen. — Boston PosU 
A stirring and unique work. It will interest the yMSenite men Yasi3y. — Olive Br. 
Delightful narrative of the adventures of six boys wL > put to sea i^ an open boat 

and were drifted to a desert island, where they lived in the manner of Eobinsoa CrU' 

Boe. — iV". Y. Com. 

A book of great interest, and one which will be a treat to any boy —'R'^i'yz Circle. 

The young will pore over its pages with almost enchanted interest. — Ti-^nZcripU 

A modern Robinson Crusoe story, without the dreary solitude of that lamens hecff 
It will amuse and instruct the young in no ordinary degree. — Southern Lit. Qazatte 

A story that bids fair to rival the far-famed Robinson Crusoe. We becom? as nuch 
Interested in the Max, Johnny, Arthur, and the rest of the goodly company, ps vC tka 
. Swiss Family Robinson. — Sartain's Magazine. 

, :HE AMERICAN STATESMAN; or, Illustrations of ^b 
Life and Character of Daniel. Webster, for the Entertsinment aa 
Instruction of American Youth. By the Rev. Joseph Baiv""ard, aa 
thor of " Plymouth and the Pilgrims," "Novelties of the New World,'> 
" Romance of American History," etc. With elegant Illustrations. 

0©- A work of great interest, presenting a sketch of the most striking and impc/r- 
tant events which occurred in the history of the distinguished statesman, Daniel 
Webster, avoiding entirely all points of a political character ; holding up to view, fot 
the admiration and emulation of American youth, only his comtnendable traits of 
character. It is just such a work as every American patriot would wish his cliildreir 
to read and reflect upon. y^ 



CHAMBERS'S WORKS. 



CHAMBERS'S HOME BOOK AND POCKET MISCEL. 

LANY. Containing a Choice Selection of Interesting and Inst/uctivt 
Reading for the Old and the Young. Six vols. 16mo, cloth. 

This work is considered fully equal, if not superior, to either of the Chambers'f 
•ther works in interest, and, like them, contains a vast fund of valuable information. 
Following somewhat the plan of the "Miscellany," it is admirably adupted to th« 
school or the ftimily library, furnishing ample variety for every class of readers, both 
•Id and yoxug. 

We do not know how it is possible to publish so much good reading matter at such 
alow price. We speak a good word for the Uterary excellence of the stories in this 
work ; we hope our people will introduce it into all their families, in order to drive 
away tlie miserable flashy-trashy stuflT so often found in the hands of our young 
people of both sexes. — Scientific American, , 

Both an entertaining and instructive work, as it is a very cheap one. — Puritan Rec 

It cannot but have an extensive circulation. — Albany Express. 

Of all the series of cheap books, tliis promises to be the best — Bangor Mercury. 

If any person wishes to read for amusement or profit, to kill time or improve it, get 
" Chambers's Home Book." — Chicago Times. 

The Chambers are confessedly the best caterers for popular and useful reading in 
tlie world. — Willis's Home JournaL 

A very entertaining, instructive, and popular work. — iV". Y. Commercial, 

The articles are of that attractive sort which suits us in moods of indolence when 
we would linger half way between wakefulness and sleep. They require just thought 
and activity enough to keep our feet from the land of Nod, without forcing us to run, 
walk, or even stand. — Eclectic, Portland. 

It is just the thing to amuse a leisure hour, and at the same time combines instruc- 
tion with amusement. — Dover Inquirer. 

Messrs. Chambers, of Edinburgh, have become famous wherever the English lan- 
guage is spoken and read, for their interesting and instructive publications. They 
combine instruction with amusement, and throughout they breathe a spirit of the 
purest morality. — Chicago Tribune. 

CHAMBERS'S REPOSITORY OF INSTRUCTIVE AND 

AMUSING PAPERS. With Illustrations. An entirely New Series, 
containing Original Articles, p. 260, 16mo, cloth. 

The Messrs. Chambers have recently commenced the publication of this work, nn- 
«Ur the title of " Chambeks's Repositoet of Instructive and Amusinq 
Tracts," similar in style, etc., to the " Miscellany," which has maintained an enor- 
jBOus circulation of more than eighty thousand copies in England, and has already 
reached -nearly the same in this country. Arrangements have been made by the 
Anaerican publishers, to issue the work simultaneously with the English edition, a 
v^olume every two months, to continue until the whole series is completed. Eack 
volume complete in itself, and will be sold in sets or single volumes. 

t0- Commendatory Letters, Eeviews, Notices, &c., of each of Chambers's workf, 
sufficient to make a good sized duodecimo volume, have been received by the pub- 
lishers, but room here will only allow giving a specimen of the vast multitude at 
hand. They <ire all popular, and contain valuable instructive and entertaining read- 
ing — such as should be found in every family, school, and college library. 

F 



MY FIRST IMPRESSIONS 
OF ENGLAND AND ITS PEOPLE. 

By Hugh Miller, author of " Old Red Sandstone,"' "Ebc-t- 
prints of the Creator," etc., with a fine Jikeness of the author, lamo. 

Ijet not the careless reader imagine, from.the title of this boolc, that it is a common 
Dook of travels, on the contrary, it is a very remarkable one, both m design, spi'-it, and 
jxecution. The facts recorded, and the views s'J vanced in this book, are so fresh, 
vivid, and natural, that we cannot but comiuiial it as a treasure, both of information 
and entertainment. — Willises Home JovnidL 

This is a noble book, worthy of the author of &>e Footprints of the Creator and tho 
Old Red Sandstone, because it is seasoned with the same power of vivid description, 
the same minuteness of observation, and soundness of criticism, and tixe same genial 
piety. We have read it with deep interest, and with ardent admiration of the ati- 
thor's temper and genius. It is almost impossible to lay the book down, even to at- 
tend to more pressing matters. It is, without compliment or hyperbole, a most de- 
lightful volume, — iV". Y. Commercial. 

This is a most amusing and instructive book, by a master hand. — Bern. Rev. 

The author of this work proved himself, in the Footprints of the Creator, one of the 
most original thinkers and powerful writers of the age. In the volume before us he 
adds new laurels to his reputation. Whoever wishes to understand the character of 
the present race of Englishmen, as contradistinguished frcni past generations ; to 
comprehend the workings of political, social, and religious agitation in the minds, not 
of the nobility or gentry, but of the people, will discover that, ia this volume, he hat 
found a treasure. --Pe<erso7j's Magazine. 

His eyes were open to see, and his ears to hear, every thing ; and, as the result ot 
yrhat he saw and heard in "merrie " England, he has made one of the most spirited 
and attractive volumes of travels and observations that we have met with. — Trav. 

High Miller is one of the most agreeable, entertaining, and instructive irriters of 
the age. We know of no work in England so full of adaptedness to the age as this. 
It opens up clearly to view the condition of its various classes, sheds new light into 
its social, moral, and religious history, its geological peculiarities, and draws concla- 
eions of great value. — Albany Spectator. 

The author, one of the most remarkable men of the age, arranged for this journey 
into England, expecting to " lodge in humble cottages, and wear a humble dress, and 
see what was to be seen by humble men only,— society without its mask." Such an 
observer might be expected to bring to view a thousand things unknown, or partially 
known before ; and abundantly does he fulfil this expectation. It is one of tlie moat 
absorbing books of the time. — Portland Ch. Mirror, 



NEW Work. 

MY SCHOOLS AND SCHOOLMASTIiRS j 

OR THE STORY OF MY EDUCATION. 

By Hugh Miller, author of " Footprints of the Creator/' 
" Old Red Sandstone," " First Impressions of England," etc. 12ino, cl. 

This is a personal narrative of a deeply interesting and instructive charaetcr, con- 
cerning one of the most remarkable men of the age. No one who purchases this book 
will have occasioa to regret it, our word for it J V 



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